Paint it, Red
by CrystalFlame360
Summary: America always believed that he was the hero, capable of helping anyone in need. But, what happens when he gets thrown into a situation beyond his control, one he can't handle? His ability to protect and save people is questioned, and friendships become stronger.
1. Where are we?

( **A/N) Okay, so I'm here with another Hetalia fanfiction. I started writing this story months ago, I have the other three chapters already written up, they just need editing, and A LOT of editing as I'm unhappy with them. This chapter went through a load of editing as well, and it took me 3 months to get round to editing this. I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it. So, as usual no flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 1: Where are we?

Screams was all he could hear, blood was all he could smell and see. It wasn't very pleasant.

All he could remember was being in a world meeting and as usual, France and England were arguing and unleashing chaos. He wasn't apart of it, of course, he fell asleep during the havoc. Then, he woke up in this place.

Italy was confused. He didn't know where he was, or how he got there. He hoped that there was a way out, so he could escape, so he could go home.

Suddenly, slamming of doors were heard, accompanied by shouting and screaming. Those screams sounded very familiar.

"America!" Italy whispered to himself, as he tried to hold back tears and a sob.

"What do you want from us?!" The American yelled, louder than usual.

"Shut it!" replied the man, with a deep, gruff voice, as a thump was heard, as if something had hit the floor. "You stupid Amer-" then a gunshot rang out.

Italy's heart sank. A fellow nation had died. He couldn't compose himself any longer.

"AMERICA!" the Italian screamed, banging violently on the door, as tears ran down his cheeks. He couldn't take it.

"Italy?" a voice asked, as footsteps were heard getting closer to the door.

"America?" Italy guessed, and he hoped it was.

"Yeah, it's me," America replied, sounding really exhausted.

"How?!" asked Italy, raising his voice. "I heard you get shot!" he started crying hysterically.

"Dude, calm down!" America hissed, just loud enough for Italy to hear him. "It wasn't me who got shot, it was the dude who was trying to put me back in my cell," he explained. Though, he'd have to admit, saying that made him feel like some sort of monster.

"America, I'm scared," the Italian whimpered. "Do you know where we are? This place is really scary."

"I'm afraid not," America replied, with a slight shake of his head. "But, I'll have to agree with you, this place doesn't look friendly."

He observed his surroundings. The hallway he was standing in was dark, gloomy and smelt damp, with the sickening stench of blood beginning to mix in. On the ground, next to him was the man who had tried to put him back in confinement. He was nothing special, just a muscular man, wearing military gear, his head lying in a puddle of blood.

From the other side of the door, he could hear Italy crying. This made the blonde feel some sort of guilt, despite him not being responsible for the Italian's sadness. Maybe, it was because he wasn't taking action, as a hero should do in a situation, such as this one.

He reached for the rusted door handle, dragged it down and pushed the door in an effort to open it.

It wouldn't budge.

"America... what are you doing?" The nation on the other side of the door asked, his crying subsiding.

"I was trying to open the door and get you outta there," America told him. "But, I guess the door is locked."

"Oh, no!"

"Don't worry, dude," America reassured, "Just hang in there and I'll find the key. Then, we can find a way out of this dump."

"Thank you, America."

America sighed and turned to his left, then to his right, thinking of where he could start his key hunt. On the left side was a rusted, pale blue door, and on the right, was a pristine, wooden door with a round, golden handle.

The blonde opted to go for the door on the right, and without a second thought, darted towards the door. Maybe, he could find something useful in there like a bat with nails sticking out, a rifle, or maybe a chainsaw. However, he was hoping that they'd be a key to the Italian's cell even more.

Reaching the door, he felt a sensation of dread. As he was closer to the door, he could now see that the door had a small, rectangular, golden plate securely screwed in, with _'Office'_ engraved into it.

That wasn't what unnerved the American.

The _"Office"_ could be where the bad guy, the evil villain resides; the cause of all this. America thought of some possible scenarios: _'What if this guy is expecting me? What will he do? Send me back to that dark, tiny room? Maybe, he'll kill me, with a rocket launcher, or with lasers from his eyes. Man, that would be soo cool! Wait... it's that dudes fault that we're even here...'_

Slowly, he grabbed the handle and turned it, prepared to take him head on. Though, when he entered, there was nobody in sight. The blonde didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed

The office looked surprisingly kempt, and wasn't too big or small. The walls were pale green, with a few framed paintings of flower vases scattered around the walls. The carpet was bottle green; spotless, not even a single crumb on it. A brown, oak desk was in the centre of the room, and resting on it, was a black, old fashioned telephone, a lit lamp and three A4 sheets of paper. Oddly, the room was lacking windows, so the only source of light was the lamp on the desk.

Curious, America stepped inside the room towards the desk. Examining the sheets of paper first, he saw that on them were the dates of every world meeting the nations had in the past 6 months, including the one they had that day.

' _Were we being watched for 6 months? Creepy.'_

Disturbed, America looked away from the sheets of paper, and opened the top desk drawer. Conveniently, the drawer had a handgun with three packs of 10 bullets. America didn't hesitate to pick them up. Opening the bottom drawer, he saw three photographs. Picking them up, he saw that the first one was of Italy sleeping during a world meeting. It wasn't strange to see the Italian asleep during a world meeting, in fact, it was normal for him; but what was strange was that this creep took a photo of it. Confused, he looked at the second one, which was a photo of himself eating a McDonalds. America cringed at the thought of that creep watching him eat, not only was it creepy, but also embarrassing; in the photo, he was devouring it like he hadn't eaten in days, which is how he always ate his favourite meal. Unnerved, he looked at the last one, which was of him and Italy talking as they entered the world meeting place. He remembered that event all too well, as it had happened that day.

"What kind of messed up shit is this?" America asked himself, in a low whisper.

He decided to place the photos in his pocket, so he could show the police if he ever got out of there.

Glancing around the left side of the room, he found something of interest. A key rack with one key on it. _'Bingo!'_ He thought, as he ran towards it and snatched them.

 _'I hope it's the right key.'_

Without thinking, he sprinted back to the Italian's cell. Taking a deep breath, he inserted the key into the lock, and turned it.

 _Click!_

"Italy?" America whispered, as he opened the door without haste. He had to wrinkle his nose at the strong scent of blood, soo strong that he could taste the metallic substance.

 _'No...'_

Before, he started to think of the worst case scenario, he saw the auburn haired male, rush out to hug him and start to cry on his shoulder. He wasn't hurt, just badly shaken.

"Grazie," he managed to say between sobs, hugging the American tighter.

"You're welcome," the blonde replied, returning the hug.

As he was trying to comfort the smaller man, the American's mind wandered on how the two would achieve their next objective; to find a way out. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it's worth a shot.

 **XXXXXXX**

 **So, that was the first chapter. As you can tell, a lot of time and effort went into writing this, so I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. And to clarify, this isn't an AmeIta story (though I do ship it ^_^ don't hate me) I don't know when the second chapter will be up, hopefully soon, it depends on how quick I get chapter 2 edited. Anyway, improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	2. Welcome to Hell!

**(A/N) Here is Chapter 2! I managed to finish editing this chapter quicker than expected, and have put lots of effort into trying to make it as good as the first chapter. Whether I have succeeded, or not is up to you to decide. I'm grateful for all the great reviews I've gotten soo far, and everyone who had favourited and followed. I was actually nervous to post this chapter, as I didn't want to ruin the fic, but I think I did a great job. As usual, no flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 2: Welcome to Hell!

Eventually, Italy had calmed down, his crying being reduced to shaky breaths. He was still hugging America tightly, and was showing no sign of wanting to let go. The blonde understood that the guy was terrified by their current predicament, but he was starting to get slightly irritated just standing there doing nothing. The fact that his favourite bomber jacket was now stained with tears wasn't helping.

"You alright?" he asked, concerned as the shorter man started to shake violently.

"Y-Yeah, I think so," replied the Italian, his grip on America loosening a little bit.

"Come on, we need to find a way out of here," the blonde stated softly, pulling away from the hug; his hands now resting on the fellow nation's shoulders. Seeing the deeply worried look on Italy's face, he added, "and don't worry, I'll protect you, and take care of all the bad dudes who try to stop us!"

"OK, America," was the response he received.

Taking a deep breath, he took out the gun from his jacket and gripped it tightly, making sure not the rest his fingers on the trigger; the firearm going off by accident and possibly attracting unwanted attention wasn't what he needed, assuming they were in a guarded building.

Cautiously, he took a step forward, glancing behind him to make sure that the Italian was following. Relieved to see that he was, he turned to the direction they were heading in, which was towards the rusted, pale blue door he didn't fancy going into earlier. He still didn't want to go in there, but what choice did he have? If he wanted to find an exit, then he needed to take these sacrifices; grow a pair, be a man, be the hero he aspired to be.

The door was getting bigger the closer they got, and America could feel the unease wash over him, similar to how a bucket of ice, cold water is poured over somebody's head; not a very pleasant feeling. It worsened as they stood in front of the door. The blonde had to mentally tell himself that a hero shouldn't be scared or nervous, but brave and fearless as he grabbed the handle, pushed it down and slowly opened it.

What awaited them was a dark, narrow corridor. It had one round window on the left wall that was smashed, allowing the cold, aggressive wind from the outside to enter, as well as some droplets of rain, which was quite heavy. Unfortunately, the window was way too small for any of the two nations to climb through, shattering America's plan of getting out that way immediately. At the end of the corridor, was a door that looked the same as the door they had just entered, however, it had a long, thick line of white paint, starting from the middle, to the end.

 _'Guess that's where we're going.'_

"Stay close," the blonde ordered in a soft, quiet whisper, as the duo stepped into the corridor.

Once they were in, the door slammed shut behind them, leaving them with no choice, but to go forward. America felt like he was starring in his own horror movie, as the wind blew through his hair, and whistled in his ears; but he couldn't give up, even if he had a terrified Italian gripping the back of his bomber jacket for dear life. That, was slowing him down.

It didn't take them long to reach the end of the corridor, or for the American to open the door at the end.

On the other side, they were greeted with nothing but darkness and a strong scent of damp, which caused Italy to promptly grip the back of America's jacket tighter, whilst quivering even more than he was on the way to the room.

"Hey, are yo-?" the blonde was interrupted by a door round the corner opening and closing, followed by footsteps. The nations immediately crouched, so they could blend into the darkness and avoid detection.

"What do you mean, 'He's dead'?" A voice asked sternly; it sounded like it had belonged to a male and was very familiar to the American; soo familiar that it made his blood run cold.

The unknown man then let out a sigh, as a flick of a light-switch was heard, followed by a chuckle. "Well, it was his own fault for trying to get his toast out with a fork," he stated, as he stopped in his tracks suddenly.

America quickly covered his mouth, so his breathing couldn't be heard; he felt like his heart was going to burst from his chest, and not in a good way like when you're in love. Italy looked as if he was going to cry, but tried to hold it back.

"So, do you have any idea what that little bitch-" the man stopped mid question, as he heard Italy sneeze. "Sorry, you'll have to hold on a second, I'm pretty sure I just heard something just now."

Footsteps were heard slowly approaching. The blonde didn't know what to do: they couldn't go back, not only was it freezing in that corridor, but it was also back to square one, and he couldn't let that happen. So, with no other options, he tightly gripped his gun, and prepared to aim if necessary.

"What the fuck?" the stanger said, evident shock and confusion in his voice, as he rounded the corner.

 _'What the hell?!'_ America thought, as he looked at this man, with equal confusion. The blonde couldn't believe what he was looking at.

This man. He sounded just like America, he looked just like America, except his appearance was slightly altered. He had the same strong muscular build, hairstyle and facial structure, but his skin was tanned, and his hair was dark red. Unlike America's light blue eyes behind a pair of glasses; his were red, and he also didn't wear glasses, however, he did have a pair of black sunglasses resting on the top of his head.

"I understand that I'm good looking, but it's rude of you to stare," he sighed in annoyance, placing a gloved hand on the bridge of his nose.

"Who are you?" America asked, trying to sound as confident as he could. "Are you like my long lost twin, or an alien?"

"Allen," the lookalike replied, taking his hand off his nose. "And no, I'm not your long lost twin, or an alien. I'm your opposite personality, you can refer to us as 2Ps, it makes things less difficult."

"Us?"

"Yeah, you didn't think it was just me, did you?" Allen asked, now slightly amused. "Why are you even-" he mumbled, and went to walk away, but was stopped by America.

"Where are we?"

"Hell, you're in Hell," he replied bitterly. "Get out before She finds out you've escaped."

And with that said, he ran off.

"What's the deal with him?" The blonde wondered.

"Who is that "She" he mentioned?" Italy asked, in a shaky voice.

"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good."

 **XXXXXXX**

 **So... I know what you're thinking, "2Ps. Great *eye roll*" Yeah, don't worry, I'm not going to make them clichéd, cold-blooded psychos like they're usually portrayed (that gets kinda old, no offence). Why put them in the story, then? You'll see. Just to clarify, I have nothing against people who do portray them as such. Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	3. This is a Problem

**(A/N) Chapter 3 is here! Sorry, it took longer than I initially planned to have it updated on. If you're interested, video games and YouTube took up my time. It's here now at least. Anyway, let's get on with the story. Hopefully, it's as good as chapter 1 and 2, but tell me what you think. As usual, no flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 3: This is a Problem.

In another area of the structure, sat a man with pastel pink hair, and light blue eyes. He was reading a book on gardening, while taking sips of his tea, and eating a pink frosted cupcake. It was peaceful, and he liked it that way.

"Ah, I could plant some pink roses," he said gaily, closing the book and placing it gently on the table. "They could brighten this place up a bit, and make it look less dreary."

Glancing around the room, he could see that the walls were grey with cracks in them, and the stone floor was also grey, but was lacking cracks, instead having odd yellow stains dotted in random places. The table the man was sitting on used to be just as dull, but a pink floral table cloth did the trick in brightening the room up a bit, but it wasn't enough. There were only two windows in the room, both round and medium in size, allowing the view of the storm outside, which wasn't a great view; lightning flashing at random intervals, trees going wild due to the high winds and droplets of rain on the glass windows would not be an uplifting start to anyone's day. On the bright side, in the man's opinion, the oven worked so he could make cupcakes, same for the water and the electricity.

Sighing, he stood from his chair and picked up his book, so he could put it back in the bookcase, however he was interrupted when the door forced itself open, followed by, "Oliver!"

Shrieking in fright, he dropped the book and turned to face the cause of disturbance. "Allen? What brings you here at this time of day?" The startled man asked, picking the book up off the floor, and dusting it off. "Also, have you not heard of knocking? Barging in without my permission is rather rude," he added.

"We have a problem," Allen blurted out, walking into the room, making sure to close the door behind him.

"A problem?" The man, named Oliver, asked curiously, placing his book in the bookcase.

"Yeah, you see, I ran into my 1P not so long ago."

Oliver froze, before turning to face the American. "Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the two stone chairs around the table.

Allen obliged, and immediately rested his head on the table. Oliver folded his arms and rested back in his chair, waiting for younger one to speak. Looking up, he started to explain.

"I saw him and Luciano's 1P sneaking around the ground floor," he started. "I have no idea how they even got there, but I've got a feeling that it's something to do with Her."

"Hmm... That is rather odd," Oliver stated, leaning forward, so that his elbows were touching the table. "What would She want with them?"

"I'm not sure, that's why I came to you."

"Luciano got sent away a couple of weeks ago, did he not?"

"Yeah, I had Flavio in my ear crying, I still do."

"Then, what would She want with Feliciano? Your 1P, Alfred, I can understand, as he is strong and courageous, in addition to that, you are still here and in Her eyes, you can follow simple instructions, but Feli; I am not going to be harsh, but he is the definition of a coward, and She greatly dislikes his 2P."

"Something's wrong, I can feel it."

"Yes," Oliver's facial expression went from serious to cheery again, as he looked straight at Allen. It started to freak the young man out.

"What?" He asked, trying to avoid Oliver's stare, which was failing.

"Do you miss Luciano?" Oliver asked, a wide grin forming on his lips. "You two were quite well acquainted with each other."

"Shut up, Oliver!"

(...)

America couldn't believe what had just transpired. Firstly, he was kidnapped and placed in unnerving and unfamiliar surroundings, not to mention with the most cowardly of nations; the blonde thinks that the Italian's a cool dude, but he wasn't a guy he'd fight a zombie apocalypse with, unless he had to. Secondly, the photos he found in that office, as well as the documents of every world meeting they had to date, well in the past 6 months. Then, the lookalike and the 'get out before She finds out you've escaped' warning.

No pressure.

"Was that man bad?" Italy asked, as him and America were walking through a new corridor.

They were trying to follow the mysterious lookalike of America, but knew they wouldn't be able to find him. However, going through the same door he exited was a good start. Although, it could possibly be futile.

Like all the other corridors they had been through, it was badly damaged and smelt strongly of damp. Very off-putting. The lights also flickered constantly, giving an eerie feel. On the bright side, it was slightly wider than the last corridor; the key word being _slightly_.

"I don't know," America answered truthfully. "I don't think so, at least."

Spotting a green light at the end of the corridor, America rushed towards it with Italy in tow. It was an elevator. A blessing in disguise. They could finally leave this floor, and maybe, get somewhere where it doesn't stink of damp.

Pushing the button, the blonde's mind started to swim with multiple questions, such as: What's going on? Why are they even here? What does the villain want with them? Who is this _'She'_?

 _Ding!_

Seeing that the elevator was ready for them to enter, he wondered; How would they even escape?

 **XXXXXXX**

 **Yeah, I made 2P!AmeIta a thing in this story, if you can't tell, hehe. That's another one of my OTPs (other one being AmeIta) that gets no love from what I've seen, as well as rarely any stories with it in. So... sorry if you're not a fan of it, and don't worry, it's not going to be the main focus of the story, or mushy (as I hate that kind of romance). Anyway, better get this done quickly before my tablet dies, it's 4%, the screen's getting dark and it's nowhere near my charger, oops. I don't know if this chapter is shorter or longer, if it's shorter, the reason is because, the keyboard on my tablet isn't agreeing with me right now, and I'm losing my patience. I hope you enjoyed it either way. Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	4. Fell For It!

**(A/N) Ciao, Chapter 4 is finally here! I apologise for keeping you all waiting for almost a month, but a lot of stuff came up. Firstly, I started to play _way too much_ of Final Fantasy IX (which I guess was my fault), then Umm... I lost Wi-Fi for a few days, which was hell. Writer's block was also one of the reasons, but I've conquered it. For now. So, I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. So, as usual, no flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good and what was bad. **

**DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 4: Fell For It!

The journey in the elevator, as short as it was, was nerve-racking. Being left to his own crazy thoughts wasn't what America enjoyed really, especially in a situation like this. Italy was making no effort in starting a conversation, probably because he couldn't think of anything to talk about, other than their current situation, which was rather unpleasant to talk about. It wasn't light in the elevator, in fact, it was dark, and that combined with the sound of scraping as the lift was ascending; it was an experience that America didn't want to have again.

When the elevator came to a stop, the blonde took a deep breath, as he placed his hand over the gun he strapped to his belt. The doors opened, revealing a dimly lit corridor, which was long, narrow and lacked windows. Unlike the corridors at the bottom floor, this one was humid and quite hard to breathe in; on the bright side, it didn't smell of damp.

Stepping out, the air around the duo became heavier, and breathing started to become difficult, but they had to press on if they wanted to be in the safety of their own homes again.

After walking forward for a while, they eventually turned a corner, and saw rusted blue double doors.

"Are they going to lead us to another corridor?" Italy asked, as America bolted towards them and peered into the windows.

"Yeah," he replied, starting to get frustrated.

Corridor after corridor. What was this corridor inception? How many corridors were there going to be?! Is this why the villain kidnapped them? To make them walk through corridors until they died? America swore that when he got his hands on this evil fiend, he was going to kick his, or should he say 'Her', ass for making him walk through soo many corridors. Italy didn't seem bothered by it, as long as those corridors got him home.

"Don't look sad, America," the Italian said, as he placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "We're going to get through this, and when we get home I'll make us some pasta."

The Italian looked like his usual happy self at that moment, and that was a good thing to see.

"Sure, can't wait!"

Opening the doors, they saw a much darker corridor with a lot of doors on both sides of the walls. The door at the very end of the corridor was the one that got both of their attention. It was white and had a big window in the centre of it.

Curious, they walked towards it cautiously, just in case anything were to emerge from the doors on the sides, as that could be game over. Peering into the window, America could see nothing but darkness.

"America, maybe we should go back," he heard the Italian whisper behind him.

"Hang on," he replied, as he grabbed the handle, and to his surprise it was unlocked. "Wait here."

With hesitation, he stepped into the room and glanced around. Seeing nothing of interest, just darkness, he turned to exit when the door slammed shut in his face.

"America!"

Crap, he couldn't see anything! Italy being on his own on the other side wasn't very assuring either. He could only assure him.

"I'm fine, it's ok," the blonde called, however, he got no answer. "Italy?!"

Suddenly, a sound similar to a gas leak could be heard, followed by the American passing out on the floor.

(...)

"Found anything yet, Oliver?" Allen asked, with a frustrated sigh. This was getting really tedious; sitting there watching his 'brother' flick through pages in a large, aged book wasn't enjoyable. He understood that they needed to know what was going on, even if it meant finding it out on their own; but they weren't going to get anywhere fast enough if they were sat there flicking through books. It'll just eat up time. Sweet, precious time, which they could be using to ask that bitch themselves. But no! Oliver didn't want to risk it.

"Hmm, I believe I have found something that would be of use to us," Oliver replied, thoughtfully, as he looked back down at the page he was on. "We can send them back using this simple spell, however, we would need to find the pair first."

"Before She does," Allen finished.

"Yes. It will be difficult, as we would have to look everywhere, and this place is not particularly small."

"Yeah, you're right. Come up with any theories as to what She would want with the two 1Ps?"

"Hmm, maybe-"

Suddenly, the door opened with a lot of force, emerging was a man with short brown hair, covered slightly with a black hat, red eyes, and a dark red uniform. He was breathless, panting as if he had ran a marathon.

"Zao? What are you doing here?" the pastel haired man asked, shocked to see the guy visiting him.

"They fell for it," he said between breaths. "They fell for the trap, and now She has the Italian in custody."

"Shit!" Allen cursed, standing from his seat. _This wasn't happening!_

"Language!" Oliver scolded. "You know I do not tolerate such inappropriate words!" he turned to the man named Zao, a calm expression back on his face. "What about Alfred?"

"I believe he's still in the room," he replied, glancing behind him.

"Thank you, Allen I will handle this!" Oliver said with determination, as pink smoke engulfed him. After the smoke cleared, the man was gone.

(...)

When the smoke was no longer obscuring his vision, Oliver could see that he was in that dark corridor, with a lot of doors.

Without a second thought, he ran towards the door at the end, knowing that was the door the boy was in. Upon reaching it, he saw that it was open all the way and empty.

"He is gone!" the man gasped, as worry hit him like a tidal wave.

 **XXXXXXX**

 **I really hope it didn't feel rushed. That's the fear I have with all my stories. I also hope that the plot is starting to go somewhere now, as well. Hope you enjoyed ^_^ Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	5. Italy?

**(A/N) Chapter 5 is here! I feel like I haven't been active in a long time, although it's only been a few weeks? Anyway, this chapter took a while to get to, as I have been occupied with my personal life, as well as writer's block. Man, that has been plaguing me a lot lately. I hope you enjoy this chapter. N** **o flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good and what was bad.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 5: Italy?

"What do you mean, 'he isn't there'?!" Allen screamed at the man, who had just entered without the blonde American.

"I mean what I said, Allen," he replied sadly, folding his arms and leaning against the stone wall behind him. "He is no longer in the trap room, and to make matters worse we do not know where he is," he let out a sigh. "Also, poor Feli is now with that dreadful woman, who knows what could happen if we do not move quickly."

"You're right," Allen sighed. "What should we do now?"

"Hmm, I believe that an emergency meeting is in order," Oliver suggested. "The more the merrier, and the more allies the better."

That wasn't a bad idea. Everyone needed to know what was going on, and not only that, but Oliver had a point; the more people they had on their side, the easier it would be to get the 1Ps home, and hopefully, overthrow Her.

"Good idea!" Allen replied, unintentionally enthusiastically, but he didn't care. "Zao!"

"What?" the man sighed, lifting his head to look at the red-head.

"Round everyone up," Allen ordered. "We're having an emergency meeting."

"What if they refuse?"

"They can hear about my childhood," Oliver piped in, excitement clear on his face. "I have a lot of stories to share about my upbringing, where I was born. Oh Zao, you and the others will love the one about my first cooking cla-"

"Oliver?"

"Yes, Allen?"

"I think you scared him off."

Looking near the doorway, they could see that Zao had left, leaving the door wide open behind him.

"Oh sugar."

(...)

' _Oh crap! What happened?_

 _The last thing I remember was a long corridor. A white door, with a window. Slamming, darkness, screaming, then nothing._

 _Italy?_

 _Italy was there too!_

 _Was he the one screaming? Yes!_

 _But where is he now? Is he okay? I have to-'_

Opening his eyes, America sat up.

Glancing around, he could tell that he was in a room that he hadn't seen before. It looked like a medical room; pale green walls, and a white floor, however, what gave the blonde the impression that it was, in fact, a medical room, was a cabinet with what appeared to be medical supplies inside.

A question echoed inside his mind. Where was he, and how did he get there?

Next to him was a table, with a candle in the centre; most likely to illuminate the room, as there was no other source of light. What caught his attention was the photographs on the table. They were the ones from the office, the ones that were supposed to be in his pocket; and to make matters worse, the one on top was of him eating a McDonalds, like a greedy savage.

 _'Who else saw that?!'_ He thought, covering his eyes and turning away, so he didn't have to look at it.

However, that was short lived, as the blonde heard the turn of a knob, followed by the door opening and closing.

"So, you're finally awake now, huh?" asked a familiar voice. An all too familiar voice, one that he was very relieved to hear.

"Hey, Italy! You're okay!" America exclaimed, turning to face the owner of the voice.

When he did, he raised an eyebrow. Was it just him, or did the cute, little guy look a little pissed off...and different?

He still looked the same physically, but was his skin always tanned? America didn't think so, he could of sworn that the Italian he knew was pale in complexion; and his hair, it was a tad bit darker than he remembered also. What he found unnerving, was the fact that the Italian's eyes were now magenta coloured; when he last saw him, they were amber coloured. His attire was also different; a decorated WW2 Italian Brigade Uniform, with black gloves and shiny patent-leather boots. He also had a black hat with a little purple bobble on the left side, which the American was pretty sure he didn't see him wearing before.

"What?!" Italy snapped, folding his arms and leaning against the door behind him.

Taken aback by this strange behaviour, America asked, "Italy, dude, what's the problem?"

"Italy? Ha! I haven't been called that in a while," he said, which confused the American further. Did he bang his head or something?

 _"No, I'm not your long lost twin, or an alien. I'm your opposite personality, you can refer to us as 2Ps, it makes things less difficult."_

 _"Us?"_

 _"Yeah, you didn't think it was just me, did you?"_

"You're not Italy, are you?" America asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," the Italy lookalike replied flatly. "My name's Luciano. You're welcome for saving your sorry ass."

"Oh, that was you? Thanks." _'Man, this is soo weird!'_

Luciano didn't look particularly impressed, as he turned to face the door. "Your equipment I kept on your person, if you haven't already figured that one out. Those photos of yours are on that table. Learn to eat properly," he said as he opened the door and exited the room.

"Hey, wait up!" America called after him, as he picked up the photos and follwed.

 **XXXXXXX**

 **So, Luciano's now been introduced. I apologise if his introduction wasn't good enough or felt rushed. I also hope that I've characterised him okay so far, as he's my favourite 2P. Also... as you've noticed, my update schedule has kinda been all over the place. I try to update once a week, at least. But, as you can tell, I haven't been doing that. It's because of writer's block, and me mostly getting occupied with other stuff. However, right now, personal issues have arouse and as a result, I may not be able to update as often, but I will still try to. I also get this feeling with each new chapter that I'm fucking the story up.**

 **Anyway, on a positive note, I do have a rough idea of what's going to happen next chapter! So... Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	6. A New Objective

**(A/N) So, as you can see I have _finally_ managed to get this chapter finished and up. It has been roughly one month, and ten days, from when I uploaded the last chapter, and for that I apologise. The thing is writer's block, as per, and the issues I mentioned at the end of the last chapter. That has passed now, however, funnily enough, shortly after publishing the last chapter, a new issue arose, and that one hasn't ended yet. So, because of that, I haven't been able to sit and ponder, about what to do with the story. I got this out, so that's good. **

**Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter and that it was worth the wait.**

 **No flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 6: A New Objective, and an Unexpected Alliance

"I sincerely apologise for calling you here on such short notice, but this is a very important issue," Oliver started, as a lot of pissed off faces looked at him. "I understand that the room choice is not appropriate, however, that is not my fault, and you are all going to have to deal with it."

Groans filled the room, as everyone rolled there eyes, excluding Oliver and Allen; the former being sat on a wooden chair with his arms folded, and the latter, stood leaning on the wall with his arms folded.

"Why are we here? Why not the meeting hall?" asked Viktor, the 2P of Russia.

"Oui, I agree. When you said 'emergency meeting' I thought we would meet in the meeting room, not your room," François spoke up, sounding really bored and tired.

"It's small and stuffy in here," complained Zao, as he tried to move further away from François, but couldn't due to lack of space.

"Will you all just shut the fuck up!" yelled Allen, as he went to stand beside Oliver. The room immediately went silent, as everyone looked up at the American; some faces showed annoyance, some faces showed fear. "Good," he said, with a false grin on his face, which everyone could see through straight away. "Now, this is a very important issue, so you better let Oliver talk and listen carefully, or -"

"What?" Allen's brother, Matt, interrupted with a tone of mockery.

"Well, let's just say, my bat hasn't tasted blood in awhile," the American replied, causing Matt to give him a look, that said, _'bring it on, brother_.'

"So," Oliver started, looking at both Allen and Matt carefully, "the reason for us not being in the meeting hall, is that this meeting needs to be strictly confidential, for reasons I will explain later. If we were to have this meeting in the meeting hall, then we would have to let Her know that we are occupying the meeting hall, which will cause problems, as she is the issue we are discussing. At least, if we are in my room, as cramped as it is, we do not have to let Her know we are having a meeting, and this can stay -"

"Man, this is soo _boring_!" Matt hollered. "Just get to the damn point!"

"Shut up, buttercup!" Allen yelled back, causing everyone to look at him quizzically. "What?"

"As I was saying," Oliver started, again. "This meeting is about our counterparts."

"Huh?" Everyone in the room, excluding Oliver, Allen and Zao, said in unison.

"The 1Ps?" asked Kuro, sounding rather monotone.

"Yes," Oliver replied, leaning back in his chair. "Allen had an encounter with his and Luciano's 1P, earlier today. We do not know if there are any others -"

"What?! They're here?!" yelled Flavio, the 2P of Southern Italy, and Luciano's older brother. He looked worried, and began to lean forward in his chair. "The 1P of my fratellino... is here?"

"Again, yes," the Brit sighed. "He is currently in the custody of Her, and Alfie's location is unknown now. We do not know what horrible things She has planned for them, but we are going to try and help them, if we can."

"Ollie, could you please just call him 'Alfred' or better, 'pork-chop'?" Allen asked, with a slight smirk on his face.

"No, I will not."

"Damn..."

"So," Oliver looked at the crowd of 2P nations expectantly. "Are you going to assist us in putting a stop to Her dreadful behaviour, and save the 1Ps?"

"If the 1P of my fratellino is on the line, then yes," said Flavio, as he raised his hand. "I may have lost mine, but I can't let Lovi lose his."

"We can't sit and watch ourselves die, can we?" François agreed, as he raised his hand.

"Anyone else?" Allen asked, as everyone put their hands up too.

"Good, now we need a plan."

(...)

"So..." asked America, as him and the Italy lookalike walked down a long corridor, that was dark and empty.

"What?" the Italy lookalike, Luciano, asked, clear annoyance in his voice.

"Where're we going?"

" _We?!_ There is no _we!_ " Luciano turned to face America. "There is _me_ , and _me_ only."

"Aww, c'mon, we can help each other out, and -"

"No! As far as I'm concerned, you are some stupid kid following me! I've got my own things to do, and you -"

"If you're like Italy, then that makes you 20, right? You know, in terms of physical age, I mean."

"Si."

"Then, that makes you one year older than me, making you -"

"Shut up!"

America immediately quieted down, as Luciano turned and continued walking, with the American following in tow, much to the Italian's dismay. He thought this version of the kind, optimistic, cheerful Italian was awful, and wondered if he even had any friends. If he didn't, the blonde wasn't surprised.

He felt like he really needed to get on this guy's good side, sure he may be moody, bossy, and overall, not so pleasant to be around; but unlike his Italy, this other Italy seemed confident, and for some reason, manipulative; he just had that air about him. Maybe, he could help him find Italy if he asked him; being a 2P, the guy may know this place like the back of his hand, or glove, and could guide him around with his eyes closed; well if he's like Italy maybe, but this dude hadn't closed his eyes once, unless blinking counts.

He decided, he was going to ask him. The American could already predict the answer, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Hey, Luciano, that is your name, right?"

"Si, what do you want now?" He still sounded grumpy.

"I was wondering if you could help me out with something..."

The Italian paused with a sigh. "Help with what?"

This was his chance, he better not blow it.

"You see, my friend went missing and I don't know where he could be. He looks a lot like you actually -"

"What?!" The shorter man turned to face the American almost instantaneously, with an expression filled with rage. "Shit!" he slammed his fist on the nearest wall next to him, which caused a slam to echo throughout the corridor.

That reaction was unexpected. Is it still worth asking? He'd have to try.

"So," America started, awkwardly. "I was wondering if you could help me find him? 'Cos ya know, a hero can't rescue the damsel in distress without a sidekick; and you've heard the saying, 'the more, the merrier,' right? Well, back to the last statement, I wouldn't call him a damsel, as he ain't female, but -"

"Alright! Quit with your rambling, you are getting on my last nerve!"

"You mean -"

"Yes, I will give you a hand, but only to save my idiot of a 1P. Then, you are on your own."

"Thanks, dude. I'm so grateful for -"

"First," Luciano interrupted, raising his hand to tell the blonde to shut up. "We need to clear a few things up. Follow me."

"Sure," America replied, as he followed the Italian into a small room on the far left of the corridor. It only had a small wooden table, and two wooden chairs, perfect for the two of them. What a coincidence that this room just so happened to be close by.

"Sit," the Italian ordered, as he took the chair opposite America. "So, first things first, what is your name?"

"America, of course!"

"I gathered. You are loud and obnoxious enough to be American, and you also happen to look a lot like Allen, with a few differences in terms of hair colour, eye colour, and skin tone. Allen also does not require the need for glasses either. So you must be his 1P," Luciano observed, in almost a mumble. Voice back to normal volume, he added, "We do not use nation names here, we mostly use our human names. Of course, you have one right, otherwise, I have no idea how you kept the fact that you are a walking, talking, and breathing nation a secret."

America didn't get why his human name was important, but he had to get this guy's trust.

"Alfred F. Jones," he answered with a sigh.

"Ha, I thought so," the Italian looked pleased with himself.

"You knew?!"

"Yes, I did," he replied, facial expression turning serious again. "I know your 2P very well, and he has mentioned you before." America thought he saw the dude's cheeks turn pink, but thought it was wise not to mention it. "Anyway, I may have an idea of where Feliciano might be, however, I need to know what happened? How he went missing I mean."

How did he know Italy's human name, but not his? Well, it does make sense, considering he is Italy's counterpart.

Taking a deep breath, the blonde answered with, "Okay."

(...)

In a dark, murky cell, sat a man with auburn hair, quivering as tears ran from his amber eyes, to his cheeks. He looked ahead in pitch black, praying to be back home, and hoping that this was all a dream.

"America, where are you?"

 _Help me, per favore..._

 **XXXXXXX**

 **I actually felt genuinely sad writing that last bit, as Italy is my favourite character. So... did you like it, I hope so. I hate my tablet keyboard. That's useless info. Anyway, I hope the next chapter comes out much quicker this time.** **Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	7. Let's Put This Plan into Action!

**(A/N) This chapter is up much quicker than last time. I'm pleased with that. Anyway, I worked hard on this chapter, so I hope that it is enjoyed and receives love.** **No flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 7: Let's Put This Plan into Action!

"I see," Luciano started, as he rested his chin on the back of his hands. "So you entered a sketchy looking room, the door shut on its own, Feliciano went missing, and you got gassed, which was when I found you?"

"Yeah, that's right," America confirmed, guilt showing on his face. "I guess I was stupid for even checking that room to begin with."

He looked expectantly at Luciano, as the man sighed and sat back in his chair.

"You are indeed correct," he finally said. "However, I have a feeling that you show signs of stupidity on a daily basis."

"Hey!" America screeched, standing from his chair. "That wasn't very nice!"

"It may not have been nice, but it is true," the Italian gestured the blonde to sit back down, which he complied. "We are not here to discuss how thickheaded you are, we are here to discuss what we are going to do from here on out."

"You said you knew where Italy was, so -"

"Yes, I do know where he is. He is currently in the custody of that cagna, which would be in a cell with high surveillance. She would be watching over him, along with guards, who are heavily armed, making escape, or rescue impossible."

"Gee, that's reassuring. So, do we have a plan?"

"Of course I have a plan," Luciano leaned in, his voice just barely a whisper. "The cell my counterpart is being contained in, is inside the building opposite to this one. Although I have been, I will say evicted, I still have the keys and key cards to this building, as they neglected to search me before letting me go."

"That's soo cool."

"I'm not finished. Luckily for us, as I was heading to the other building anyway, we are very close to this building's back exit. We continue as normal, and as soon as we reach the exit, we have to be stealthy, because there are searchlights and cameras outside of both premises. Once we are inside, we search for my counterpart, being as quiet as possible. After we have found him, we get out of there as quickly as possible, then we go our separate ways."

"You make this sound so simple."

"I know. At least you are smart enough to know that this is not going to be an easy task."

"It's obvious that it isn't, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out," the American stood from his chair again. "Lead the way, Luciano."

The red-head stood from his chair. "Gladly, but do not give me instructions again, Jones, I follow my own orders."

With that, Luciano stood, and headed towards the door, however, America stopped him.

"'Jones?' Can't you just call me 'America'?"

"No, as I have said, we do not use nation names here. Now, follow me."

With a plan in the works, America followed the 2P of Italy, to save a fellow nation, who just also happened to be a friend of his. He was determined to succeed, and if the going got tough, then he will push harder.

 _'Hold on, Italy... I'm coming for you.'_

(...)

"So, I know we are going to help them, but how are we going to do that?" asked Viktor, as he looked in thought.

"He does have a point," said Zao. "We have no idea where Allen's 1P is, and Luciano's 1P is in the custody of Her, which is a heavily guarded area."

"That makes no difference," Kuro spoke up flatly. "Allen's 1P wouldn't have ventured too far, as there is no way he would be able to exit the building without security finding him. Hopefully, we should be able to find him easily while we are heading towards the back exit."

"Back exit?" asked Matt, as he looked at Kuro with curiosity. "Why the fuck would we be heading there?"

"Matt!" Oliver shrieked, as he looked at the Canadian with rage. "What have I told you about using such language?!"

"Shut up, you drama queen!" Matt stood from his spot on the floor, and proceeded to head towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Allen asked, with a slight hint of mockery in his tone, as he gave off a smirk and folded his arms.

"Nowhere that concerns you, brother," he replied, as he slammed the door shut after him.

Everyone in the room stared at the door, in both shock and confusion. They didn't know what had caused that sudden outburst, but found it very unnecessary.

"That was a bit of an overreaction," stated Zao, as he turned to face the front, followed by everybody else.

"What was that about?" François asked, as he looked up at Oliver.

"I wish I knew," the Brit replied, folding his arms as a look of sadness and guilt appeared on his face. "You all know how much I despise curses, swears, racial slurs and other inappropriate words. I would greatly appreciate it if none of you used such language in front of me. Although, I may have been too harsh on the boy."

"Matt's reaction to a little telling off was nothing, but pathetic and childish," Flavio stated, causing the other occupants in the room to look at him with surprise. "He knows that you are sensitive to curses, yet he still chooses to use them in your presence. We may be 2Ps, but it doesn't hurt to show one another some respect." After his little rant, he took a deep breath and asked calmly, "Oliver, how are we going to help those poor 1Ps?"

The Brit looked in thought for moment, before frowning. "But, what about Matt?"

"He can wait, these 1P's lives can't."

"He has a point, Ollie," Allen told him, as he stepped closer to face everyone. "To answer Matt's question before he left, yeah, a back exit does exist. We will be using the back exit to get to where Feli is being held, without much detection."

"However, there are searchlights and cameras outside of this building and the prison building," Oliver stated, still feeling guilty about the previous incident. "We would have to sneak around, and be as quiet as mice, unless you all want to end up with death in your foreseeable future."

The 2Ps looked determined, as they listened to Oliver and Allen explain the plan to them in great detail. They were each told their roles, their strategy for infiltrating the building, what security was going to be like inside the building itself, and how they are going to pull off the escape. It all sounded so simple, yet they knew it was going to be a tough mission, and they needed an extremely good strategy if security was as tight as Oliver and Allen were saying it was.

"This plan sounds like it could work," said Lutz, speaking up for the first time during the entire meeting. "However, we haven't gone through how we are going to get the 1P in question out of confinement."

"Good point," Allen mumbled, placing a hand on his chin.

"We may have to convince Loki, the key keeper, to give us the spare key card to the lad's cell," Oliver suggested. "Like me, he is a magic user, so we get on quite well."

"Is he the Romanian one, or the Norwegian one?" asked Allen, placing the hand that was once on his chin, on his hips.

"The Norwegian," the blonde replied.

"The wacko that is obsessed with fire?" asked Zao, with a look of disdain on his face. "You'd better hope that he doesn't burn the key, or you if you go there."

"Do not be ridiculous," Oliver told him. "Yes, fire does indeed fascinate him, however, he does not incinerate everything he comes into contact with."

"Tell that to the anime posters in my room," Kuro said sourly, as he folded his arms. "And my manga and DVD collection."

"Okay, Oliver is going to go speak to Loki, then he is going to be turned into toast, and we mourn his loss," Allen said. "Is everyone in agreement?"

Everyone nodded slowly, excluding Oliver, who looked insulted and not impressed.

"I am not going to be toasted, and I will ask for the key now," the English man said sternly, as he stood and walked through the door.

After Oliver left, Allen turned to the remaining 2Ps in the room.

"We leave tonight."

(...)

"We are leaving now," Luciano stated, as he was stood in front of the a rusty grey door, which was supposedly the back exit. "Jones, do you have a weapon to use, just in case we run into trouble when we are in the building, or if something were to wrong on the way to the building?"

"Yeah," he replied, taking out the handgun he found in the office when he was on his way to save Italy the first time.

"Having a gun is fine, but do you have any ammunition for it?" The Italian asked. "It would also be much preferable if you had a silencer attached, so it does not make noise when you fire it."

"I don't have a silencer, but I do have ammo," the American presented his three boxes of bullets. "Can we go now? Italy needs us, and -"

"How dare you!" Luciano growled, stomping towards the blonde, as he took his knife from his sheath, and pointed it at the American's neck, backing him into a wall. "We go when _I_ say we go, we do things _my_ way, and you do as _I_ say!" He tilted his head to the right slightly, as his magenta eyes glowed, and a sadistic smirk appeared on his face. "Is that clear, _Jones_?" He asked, in a stern, but amused voice.

"Yeah, sure, just get that knife away from me!"

"Very well," he said in his usual voice, as his expression relaxed and his eyes lost their glow. He placed his knife back into his sheath, and looked slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry for having to do that, but you have to learn to listen to your superiors. As long as you are with me, I'm your boss, you listen to me, obey me, and respect me. "

"I just asked if we could leave sooner."

"While I was checking if we were prepared," he placed a knife with a plain black wooden handle engraved with the initials _'LV'_ into America's hands.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"Since you do not have a silencer for your gun, it would be best for you to use it only if necessary, as it could draw unwanted attention. You can only use the knife, as it is quieter."

"But what about you? Isn't this knife yours?"

"That one is not mine, well, it was mine once, it is my old one from two years ago. It is now yours." He took out his knife from its sheath again. "This is the knife I use currently," he showed off his knife, which had a dark brown leather handle, and a sharp, pointed blade. Looking at it made America glad that he had complied with the Italian's wishes.

Putting the knife back in its sheath for the second time in that hour, Luciano turned to the door.

"What do these initials mean?" America asked. "Is it the people that made this?"

"No, they are my initials; Luciano Vargas," the Italian replied. "I always engrave my initials on my knives, I just haven't done it to my current one, and that is because it's leather. The knives I've used in the past have had wooden handles. Now, put that away, and let's go."

"Sure," the blonde replied, as they walked through the door.

 **XXXXXXX**

 **And things are, hopefully, getting more interesting now. I actually had fun writing this chapter for some reason, I guess it was just the sudden flow of ideas, that I am not used to. Writer's block is my nemesis. Yeah, sorry if Luciano was kind of an ass towards the end, he wasn't supposed to come off as evil, or malicious, and I also apologise for the lack of description, but that's because this chapter takes place in scenes already described. I better end this now, as it's going on long enough, and my tablet screen has gone dark due to it being on 5%. Oh, the joy.** **Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	8. Entering The Prison Building

**(A/N) Chapter 8 is here, and quicker than expected, woo! And... it's the longest chapter I have written, as well as the longest piece of writing I have done... woo? Anyway, if anyone has read my profile, you'll know that I have decided to stick to a schedule, and chapters for this story were going to be posted once a month on the 21st. Hehe, well as you can see, at the time of posting this chapter, it's August 7th and I posted the last chapter, roughly, 2 weeks and 3 days ago; I know, I checked.**

 **So, why are you posting the chapter now, then? You ask; well, the answer is simple. I'm going to be moving house soon, so as you can possibly tell, it's going to mess with this new schedule I set up, as well as updates. So for now, I'm not going to be sticking to a schedule, and will just post chapters when I finish them.**

 **On the topic of the actual story, this chapter was quick to get ideas for, they all rushed to me, which I'm really happy about. Writing certain parts of the chapter were difficult however, as you can tell by the descriptive "action" scenes. I hope you enjoy this chapter, as a lot of work went into it, as you can tell by its length.**

 **No flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad. I sometimes wonder why I still put this...**

 **Man, this has gone on long enough, time for the disclaimer!**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 8: Entering The Prison Building

The storm outside was fierce, much worse than America had anticipated; the rain was relentless, each drop making his clothes cling to his skin and his bomber jacket feel heavier. His hair was starting to stick to his forehead, and his vision was blurry, as a result of him taking his glasses off due to the raindrops obscuring the lenses. A thick sheet of dark clouds were in the sky, making the lighting outside quite dark, and as a result of that, when lightning flashed it could not only be seen in the sky as clear as day, but it also lit up the entire area, from the prison building itself to the main building. It would go from brief, to lingering a little longer, and would sometimes be as temporarily blinding as a flash grenade. The rumbling of the thunder was unusually loud, louder than America was used to, and for some reason, reminded him of the days when Italy would visit his house.

The visit would then turn into a sleepover if a thunder storm started, because the auburn haired nation was scared of them. He remembered them making a den out of blankets and pillows, then bringing a lot of snacks and hot chocolate in there with them. They would stay in that den of theirs until the storm had gone away, because in that den of theirs nothing could get to them, and they were protected. If the sound of thunder was unexpectedly loud, they would wrap up in one of the blankets they placed in the den and hug each other tightly until Italy had calmed down a little. Although it was scary for the Italian, he would always appear to enjoy himself.

Kicking himself out of his memories of the past, the blonde set his mind on the objective at hand, which was to save Italy. The thought of Italy being on his own, terrified in a cold cell with tears running down his cheeks, with nobody there to hold him if he was scared was saddening. But unbeknownst to his Italian friend, he was coming to get him; he was going to save him and be his knight in shining armour. Then he was going to take him back to his place, and they would get comfortable and watch a movie with some hot chocolate, heck, they would even add making a den into that plan if that was what the Italian wanted.

Concentrating as hard as he could on his surroundings through blurry eyes, the American could make out searchlights, and a lot of them, as well as a big black blob in the distance, which the blonde assumed was their destination, the prison building.

Looking to his new ally, he asked, "So, how are we going to do this?"

Luciano looked to be scanning the area, his brows furrowed in concentration. "If it is not obvious enough, we are going to be discrete. However, the only issue we have are the searchlights, which is why having a silencer on your gun would have been useful."

"Oh, sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it, I have a plan to get past them," Luciano pulled a small device out of his breast pocket and presented it in the palm of his hand.

"What's that?" America asked, squinting, but could only make out a small purple dot.

"This is the Farfalla Viola, something that I developed quite recently," Luciano stated proudly. "It is a small gadget, yes, but it is the most effective."

"What does it even do?"

"Well, how do I explain this in a way that you would understand? You play video games, yes?"

"Yeah."

"And you know in games that involve human enemies you can stun them with flash grenades, yes?"

"Yeah, and in some other games you can use your fists, shoot them in the head and -"

"Quiet," Luciano hissed. "Right, where was I? This works in a similar way to a flash grenade, except this works on some forms of technology instead, such as security cameras and searchlights. In this little gadget contains a material I like to call Aqua, which is sort of like ice, except it does not melt in high temperatures; it only melts when it comes into contact with electrical and battery signals, the reason for this I don't know. As you are seeing right now, it is also resilient to water and other liquids, too."

"Um, I can't see actually."

"Don't interrupt me, Jones. What this device does is that it makes the electricity, or batteries, inside them go haywire, so they malfunction, however, the effect is only temporary, so we would still have to be quick to get out of the camera and searchlights' line of vision. I have eleven on my person, so we have to make them count, although, I only aim to use at least one."

"Why?" America asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because, not only can they be useful outside, but they can be useful inside as well," Luciano said, as he took his knife from its holster and turned to the blonde with a look of determination on his face. "Follow my lead."

"Hold on a minute, I told you I can't see, man!"

"And why is -" he paused mid question, and looked at America quizzically. "Why don't you have your glasses on?"

"Because, all the rain gets on the lenses and I can't see through them."

"So, what are we going to do now, then? Do you expect me to hold your hand?"

"That would be nice."

"I cannot do that, as I have the Farfalla Viola in one hand, and my knife in the other. You are going to have to try your best to keep up and see where you are going. You can make me out fine?"

"Yeah, but -"

"OK, you will be fine, follow me."

With a small sigh, America followed Luciano who ducked behind a big, rusted green bin, which oddly smelt of decay, however, the blonde decided not to mention it, not really wanting to know why. He could make out Luciano taking a peak around the corner, and then heard him whisper, "I'm going to throw this now. On my call, I want you to stay focused and bolt to what I'm going to assume you think is a big blob, ok."

"Sure."

Luciano performed a throwing action, which was soon followed by a bright white light engulfing the entire area. "Run!" he heard Luciano order, as they both made a run for the building.

As he ran, America could feel the discomfort caused by his soaked clothing, and could see the searchlights flickering on and off, fixed in one direction. He oddly heard voices yelling, "What the hell was that?!" and, "Intruders! Over there!"

 _'This isn't good!'_

"Shit!" Luciano cursed under his breath, as he started to sprint faster, but out of nowhere, he was tackled to the ground, emitting a yelp when it happened. America went to help him, but then he heard a cocking of a gun behind him.

"Don't move blondie," he heard a gruff voice order, as Luciano could be heard struggling against, what the American had assumed to be, a man in the background. Two footsteps could be heard approaching, and the blonde nation had just remembered the knife Luciano had given him was still in his hands.

He didn't like the thought of killing these guys, he saw enough dead men in the wars he had fought in the past, however, they were stopping him from accomplishing his objective and that was a problem. No, there was another way besides killing them. He could incapacitate them, he was strong enough.

Without a moment of hesitation, he elbowed the man behind him in the head, instantly knocking him out, and then proceeded to kick the man off Luciano, who finished the man off with a kick to the head.

Standing up, the Italian turned to the remaining two men, who stood expressionless with guns pointed at the duo. As he edged closer to them, they seemed to back away slightly, faces now filled with fear.

"Is that...?" one of the men trembled, lowering his gun slightly. "Luciano Vargas?"

"No, it can't be!" the second man replied. "He was banished for not approving of our boss's ideals!"

"But it -"

"Yes, it is me," Luciano interrupted, his voice filled with amusement, as he raised his knife. "In the flesh."

"No, shit," the second man gasped, backing away with the other man. "You are him, but how...?"

"Sneaking into this dump was not very difficult, actually. Security is as terrible as always."

"But, you're supppsed to be locked up and set to be executed."

"What?!" Luciano asked, sounding impatient and furious, which made the men whimper and back further away.

"Yeah, in that building," the first man said, nervousness present in his voice, as he pointed to the prison building. "We were supposed to be making sure you didn't get out, but now I'm confused."

"No," America whispered in shock, and he thought he heard fear in his own voice too. "They're not talking about Italy, are they?!"

It appeared that Luciano had realised the possibility too, because his magenta orbs glowed, which America had gathered only happened when he was seriously angry, and although the blonde couldn't see this, a vein was popping out of his head. Marching towards the pair of men, the Italian used the handle of his knife to violently jab the second man in the stomach, which resulted in a pained gasp as he fell to the ground.

"Please," the man begged, as he struggled to breathe; every time he did so, it came out as a choking sound. Luciano responded with an amused sigh, as he finished the man off with a kick to the head, knocking the man out.

Through the corner of his eye, the Italian could see the last man, quivering whilst backing away. If he wanted to know where his counterpart was being held, which, in his opinion, was much easier than expected, then he couldn't let him get away.

Sending eye-daggers his way, Luciano growled, " _Don't move_."

However, the man didn't listen, and instead bolted away. Without a second thought, the Italian gave chaise, and unlike Italy, who was only fast when running away, Luciano appeared to possess that speed, not only when running away, but at all times; this security guard didn't stand a chance. When he got close to the man, Luciano grabbed his shoulders and performed a flip, hands still on this man's shoulders; and once getting to his feet, he flipped the man on the ground, hands pinned above his head.

"Where am I supposedly being contained?!" he practically screamed, breathlessness, surprisingly, not showing in his voice; what he did to get the man on the ground, combined with the speed that he ran, would leave anyone breathless, but not this guy it seems.

"Cell 302," the man cried. "Please, don't hurt me!"

"Thank you," Luciano said, unusually sing-song like, as he then hit the man with the handle of his knife, knocking him out, too. He then stood up, and jogged back to America, who was stood in awe. Despite his vision being blurry, he still saw roughly what had happened. "Let's go, quickly!" the Italian ordered, as he started to sprint past the blonde and towards the prison building.

Once they finally got outside the building, Luciano unlocked the door with his keys, and guided America inside, locking the door behind him. After taking some time to catch their breath, the Italian sighed and leaned against the wall.

"Luciano?" America asked, fear still present in his voice, as he put his glasses back on. "Where are they keeping Italy? Did he tell you?"

"Yes, he did," Luciano replied. "He said Feliciano is in Cell 302, which if it isn't obvious enough, is the second cell on the third floor."

"OK, let's get him!"

"Wait!" Luciano yelled suddenly, yanking America back to him by his sleeve.

"What's up?"

"Something isn't right, security doesn't look as tight as it should do."

"And that's a bad thing, because...?"

"I'm sorry to do this early, Jones, but we are going to have to part ways," Luciano told the American, turning towards a red door on the right.

"What?! Why?!"

He couldn't believe this was happening!

Turning back to face the American, Luciano approached him, and said, "I need to check up on something quickly." He then held out a yellow key card. "Take this, it's the key to get Feliciano out of his cell."

America complied and took it, looking down sadly. He couldn't believe he wasn't going to get help... wait... he's a hero, he'll be fine!

"Also, you may need this," Luciano handed him a map of the building. "I'll tell you again, Feliciano is in Cell 302, so that is the second cell on the third floor, you got that?"

"Yeah, I'll save him as fast as possible. Good luck with what you're doing, Lu-Lu."

"Lu-Lu...?" Luciano's brow twitched, as that was a nickname his older brother had given him, and he hated it. Despite how angry he was, he decided to not make a scene, just in case it drew attention; it was better to be safe than sorry, so instead, he sighed. "I'm not going to say anything, however, just to let you know, I'm not too fond of nicknames. Farewell, Jones, we shall meet again outside this building. I should have a means of escape ready. Please, don't fuck this up."

And with that, he left through the door, leaving America on his own.

 **XXXXXXX**

 **Alfie is on his own... poor bugger. Anyway, sorry if this chapter felt off, or rushed, but I assure you it wasn't... I think I feel it's bad because of the length, and, to me anyway, the ending felt abrupt. Okay, writing the next chapter might be a fun journey... yay! Stay tuned for that! Man, I'm hyped up today! So... improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	9. Some Things Just Don't Go To Plan

**(A/N) Chapter 9 is finally here, after being in the works for 2 months! I sincerely apologise for the wait, and I believe that a short explanation is in order here. It's just been college stuff (yeah, I'm still a student), like assignments and stuff, as well as stress and writer's block. But, I've finally written this, and wow, I'm surprisingly proud of this.**

 **And I'm just gonna reassure you all and say that my goal is to finish this, so it won't be discontinued, not that anyone complained, but still.**

 **I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and sorry again.**

 **No flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 9: Some Things Just Don't Go According to Plan

In the main building, a man with a small grin on his face was staring, fixated on the flame of a lighter. He loved the way the flame swayed and remained in one place; it fascinated him. The flame, despite looking harmless on the surface, was capable of so much, and the man knew it; it could turn even the most finest materials, and the most stable of buildings to ash.

Fire often reminded the man of the old days, which involved a lot of wars between the 2Ps; those wars being the only times he got to use fire in a fight. The most memorable battle was against Lutz, where he ran out of oil for his flamethrower, and he had to resort to his fire magic instead. He never wanted to brag, but he'd say that he was a complete badass during that fight; although, most of the 2Ps had stated that what he did was 'reckless and stupid.'

However, Flavio told him that it looked cool, so he was happy at least someone appreciated how badass he was in that fight to the death. He knew he couldn't please everyone.

With a sigh, the man flicked the lighter off, causing the flame to vanish, and closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

"This isn't fun," he said, as he went to brush his hand through his hair, but upon hearing the sound of something light hitting the floor, he sighed in slight annoyance. "Why do I always forget about my hat?" he asked himself, as he opened his eyes and picked it up.

Instead of putting it back on his head, he just stared at it with curiosity.

"I wonder..." he started, as he flicked his lighter back on.

But before he could even do anything, the door opened, followed by, "Loki, could I have a word?"

Flicking his lighter off for the second time, and placing his hat back on his head with a sigh, the man, said to be called Loki, looked at the one who had just entered the room, with a small smile.

"Sure, what is it, Oliver?"

Stepping into the room, the Brit closed the door behind him and sighed.

"What's up? You look pretty stressed," Loki asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair.

"Nothing is the matter, I am fine," Oliver replied, as he approached the Norwegian. "Thank you for your concern."

"No problem," he then looked at the pastel haired 2P with a serious expression on his face; which was strange, considering his usual nonchalant and slightly naïve personality. "So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" his voice sounded strange, not like the usual Loki the Brit knew; instead of his usual carefree and happy tone, he sounded grave, a hint of dread also being present in his voice.

Not wanting to mention it, Oliver mentally shook his thoughts aside, only leaving room for his mission. To get the key to the prison building and all of the cells, if he can.

"Well, I came here to ask you for a favour."

"A favour? Interesting," Loki leaned forward in his chair, giving Oliver a look; an expectant, smug look, which didn't suit him. The English-man could sense an unpleasant aura emitting from his friend, which made him want to flee, but he wasn't a coward.

Loki sighed, and then asked in a tone Oliver couldn't pick up on, but guessed it was mockery; "Does it involve a key to the prison building by any chance?"

Oliver gasped, as his blood went cold, and his heart skipped a beat.

"How did you -?! "

"I heard the news, Oliver; I'm not stupid. I know that Luciano has finally been captured, and is set to be executed; and I also know of his and Allen's 'relationship', which would explain why you are planning to rescue him. But I say, what's done is done; he committed the crime, now he's paying the price."

"But it is not Luciano paying the price, it is his 1P!" Oliver shrieked. "Loki, you know, better than I do, that Luciano did nothing wrong; he just did not support Her ideals, and neither do you, or me, or anyone else for that matter. Neither him or his 1P deserve death for this!"

"The 1Ps are not our concern. Unless you want to suffer the same fate, Ollie, I suggest you stay out of this," Loki told him, darkly. "Go back to your room, and don't get involved. If you do - well, just make sure Master doesn't find you."

"Master? But you despise that wretched woman; why the sudden change?"

"Let's just say I was 're-educated', was given the true knowledge of the world," he smirked darkly, sending goosebumps down Oliver's spine.

"Loki...?"

"Oliver, you don't know, do you? You haven't been given Master's gift of knowledge. I feel sorry for you, though you will receive it soon enough, everyone will. Leave now, or I won't be held responsible for what happens to you."

"Why are you - "

"I won't tell you again."

Oliver didn't know what was going on; why was Loki acting strange all of a sudden? He was fine when the Brit entered. Judging by how the conversation was going, Oliver knew that Loki wouldn't give him the key, but he had to try.

He had to ask, to avoid anyone getting hurt.

With a deep breath, he said, "So, you are not going to hand me the key?"

"No. Leave."

And that was it...

No.

With a loss of what to do, Oliver left the room, slamming the door behind him. He couldn't give up; neither Feli, or Luciano deserved this. He had to tell the other 2Ps, and conduct a plan to get that key.

(...)

America looked at the map closely, trying to think of a plan to save Italy. Luciano had told him that Italy was in the second cell on the third floor; cell 302 to be exact. He had also stated that security wasn't as tight as it should be, meaning getting to the Italian would be a piece of cake. As good as that was to the American, he would have liked it if the main bad guy put up some form of a fight; like tighten security, or place traps involving lazer beams. He wasn't complaining though; the faster he got to Italy, the quicker he could finally go home.

According to the map, if he wanted to get to Italy, then he was going to have to go through the brown door on the left, and then try to get to the entrance of the third floor, by getting through the corridor without detection, then get to the elevator, or the staircase entrance; they were beside each other, so America didn't have to worry about that.

With that plan thought out in his head, the blonde placed the map in his pocket, then proceeded to go through the brown door.

Although he was told that security was low, America couldn't help but tread carefully. It may have looked like security was low from the room he was just in, but the outside of the room could be a completely different story altogether.

With caution, the blonde pressed himself up against the wall, and slowly took a peek around the corner. The corridor was relatively dark, though despite that, America was still able to see that nobody was there, which was odd. If the villains had a prisoner they wanted to keep contained, shouldn't there be guards on high alert? The American also found the fact that footsteps and breathing couldn't be heard quite unnerving, and strange.

The coast may have looked clear, but the American still had to be cautious.

Bracing himself, just in case he were to come across one of the evil doers, he tiptoed around the corner, holding his breath as he did so. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and he could feel butterflies building up in his stomach, but why? Why was the hero feeling nervous?

 _'Something doesn't feel right, but I can't put my finger on it,'_ America thought, as he let himself exhale. Peeking around the next corner, he spotted an elevator, to his relief, and to the left of the elevator was a security camera, which strangely appeared to be offline; not active at all.

 _'Okay, this is getting even stranger. Why are the cameras turned off? Is the power off, and if so, why is the power off? Could the bad guys be plotting an ambush, or...'_

Shaking his head, he focused on the situation at hand; he could ponder to himself as soon as he rescued his Italian friend, and gets them both to safety. Maybe the power to the elevator works, however, that would be unlikely.

 _'It's worth a shot...'_

Trying not to get his hopes up, the blonde personification of America, ran towards it, while also making sure his footsteps weren't too loud. For all he knew, there could be secret invisible guards, or something along those lines, and he didn't want to risk that. Pressing the button, nothing happened, which did make sense as hindering as it was.

 _'I knew it,'_ America thought in mild frustration. _'So, I guess the power is out then, but why?'_

Convenient for him, there was a door to the right of the elevator, which led to a staircase, as it read on the door. Getting ready for disappointment, he took a deep breath, as he pushed down the handle, and fortunately for him, the door was unlocked and could easily be opened.

Without thinking, he ran through, his eyes brimming with hope and determination, as he sprinted up to the third floor. Reaching a door with a big '3' on it, he opened it without haste, just to be safe, as he didn't know if there were guards waiting for him, or not. Taking a small peek, he couldn't see anyone, so he stepped in completely, still keeping his eyes peeled for any guards, and mentally preparing himself for a fight, if necessary.

His next course of action was to find Italy's cell; 302. That was going to be simple, as the cell number was 302, and as it ended in '02', that meant that it was literally a few steps away from the blonde. Taking the keycard Luciano provided him with out, he smiled slightly.

 _'I'm coming.'_

Turning to his left and taking a few steps, he found the door, and immediately used the keycard. With the door now unlocked, he opened it, and took a weary glance around.

"Italy?" America whispered, as he scanned the room. He sighed in relief, as he saw the Italian in question, turn and look up at him; his expression of fear and confusion, quickly turning to an expression of happiness. Tears started to fill the auburn's eyes, as he said, "America, you're here?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he replied softly, approaching the Italian slowly, as he extended his hand out for the shorter nation to grab. "C'mon, we're getting outta here, ok."

Italy smiled as he took America's hand, and was brought up to his feet. "Grazie," he whispered shakily, as he hugged the blonde and buried his head on his shoulder. America wanted to hug back, but they didn't have the time to embrace. Italy's life was on the line, so they had to leave, fast.

Gently pulling away from the hug, the American looked at Italy. "We have to leave here as quick as possible, so we don't have time to hug, maybe later, ok?"

"Si, I understand," he replied, rubbing the tears from his eyes.

Taking Italy's hand in his own, the blonde ran out of the cell, then heard the cocking of guns.

"Hold it!"

"Oh, come on!" America yelled, as he immediately looked to the source of the voice.

It was a group of men in uniforms, identical to the ones him and Luciano had encountered on the way there, albeit not the same men. They had machine guns pointed at the pair of nations, and looked ready to shoot if they had to.

"Where did you people come from?!" the blonde asked, both frustrated and confused. He was sure he saw nobody until that moment.

"Guns down, soldiers," a voice ordered, a voice that also sounded suspiciously familiar. From the small crowd of soldiers, a man that looked like Finland stepped out, a smile on his face. "It's soo nice to finally meet the 1P of Allen in person, but I must say that it's not nice for us to meet like this."

"Who are you?" America asked, a bit aggressively than he had meant to, but he was protecting a friend; and although this guy had the friendly face of Finland, he couldn't let his guard down.

"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Thurston Väinämöinen, the 2P of Finland. I'm also in charge of running this prison building, so if you're unaware of this, you have caused me some issues."

"Sorry 'bout that, dude. I just came to take my friend home, if that's OK with you -"

"I'm afraid it's not, Mr. Jones. We have been ordered to not allow you and Mr. Vargas to escape here. You are now going to surrender yourself, hand Mr. Vargas to us, and you are both to be handed to our Master."

"Like hell we are," America said, standing completely in front of Italy. "We're going home and that's that."

"What a pain," Thurston sighed, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Men, take aim!"

"Italy, run!"

"America, what about you?!"

"I can handle them, get yourself to safety," the blonde told him, giving the Italian a reassuring smile. "There should be someone waiting for you outside, now go. I'll keep them busy."

"America..."

The American in question could see tears in the auburn haired male's eyes, but he knew this had to be done if it came to it. He had to be a real hero this time around, not just claim to be one every chance he got.

"Italy, don't worry about me. You can still run fast?"

"S-Si," he nodded, his crying now evident, as the tears ran down his cheeks.

"Okay, run, run as fast as you can. I promise I'll catch up with you, be strong for me, and go."

"Fire in 5, 4 -"

"Italy, run! Now!"

And with that last order, he ran and exited through staircase door, running not because England was coming, not because he was chasing a cat, but because his life truly depended on it.

 **XXXXXXX**

 **Well, writing that last part didn't make me upset or anything. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm aware that it didn't have a great start, but you know, I'm sure the end made up for it, right? I'm going to try and update quicker, as I do feel bad for keeping you all waiting. And sorry if 2P!Finland's name is not good, or not really Finnish, or whatever; I got the name from the 2P!Hetalia Wiki, as sad as that is, as I couldn't think of one. Chapter 10 next, I didn't think I'd get that far with this. Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	10. When Things Go Awry

**(A/N) Heh, heh, heh; yeah, sorry for being late with this, but here is Chapter 10. This was actually supposed to be published in December, however, due to the fact that coming up with ideas for this story has been difficult lately, and stuff happening in my real life, it was delayed... 'til now. I know it's late, but Happy New Year! Anyway, as you can see, this chapter is shorter, due to writer's block, and I also believe that its quality isn't the best either, but I didn't know how to improve it. Hopefully, the next chapter will be better, as I do have a scene for that chapter written... it may be from the very old version, but still.**

 **Yeah, I'll shut up now...**

 **No flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 10: When Things Go Awry

"Wait! Hold fire!" Thurston ordered, his face reddening in frustration.

"What's up, Thursty? Lost your nerve?" America jeered, a slight smirk on his face as he got into a fighting stance; this was his time to do something that was true heroism. He just hoped that Italy had manged to gain some distance; the Italian was quick on his feet, so there was a high chance that he was far away from the commotion anyway.

The Finnish man didn't look amused, both by the new nickname that the American had given him, and the fact that the auburn haired male had managed to escape.

"Oh no, Mr. Jones, I haven't lost my nerve," Thurston growled, clenching his fists tightly. "You've just infuriated me to no end."

"Why? Because, I came here to save my friend? That's so - "

"All you had to do was hand Mr. Vargas to us, and then surrender yourself, but I guess you just wanted to make this difficult." He combed his hand through his hair, with a sigh. "Well, unfortunately for you, we are now going to have to do this the hard way."

"And that is?"

"I'm going to get into trouble for this, but I'm sure Master will understand," Thurston whispered to himself, before looking at the American with an almost psychotic smirk. "Let's paint the walls red, using your blood as the paint, shall we?"

"What?! That's messed up!" America took a step back, keeping his stance, though he couldn't hide the fear on his pale face.

"Leave us, soldiers! Go after Mr. Vargas, two of you stay; if he's anything like Allen, he'd be tough to take down."

"Yes, sir!"

The American felt like he was frozen in place, as soldiers ran past him. Is that really what a hero would do in this situation?

 _'No!'_

He sharply turned to follow the soldiers; he couldn't let them hurt Italy, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. However, he felt a yank on his sleeve, as he fell to the ground. Thurston loomed over him, his smirk widening, as he pointed his gun at the blonde.

"I didn't think taking you down would be this simple, how disappointing."

 _'I'll show you disappointing...'_

Without thinking, America rolled out of the way, then proceeded to punch the gun out of the man's hand, before kicking him in the gut. The Finnish man fell to his knees, as the blonde male turned to the two stunned soldiers, who just had their guns pointed at him. Taking out the knife Luciano had given him, he turned it so the blade was facing him, and the blunt end was facing the soldiers, and after inhaling deeply, he ran at the soldiers, who then promptly started firing their guns. Ignoring a sharp pain he suddenly felt in his arm, he stabbed one of the soldiers in the head, knocking him out, then punched the other one in the head.

Panting heavily, he looked at his arm, which had blood running down it; the same went for his shoulder.

 _'Shit!'_

He knelt down, as he looked at his wounds in horror. What was he going to do? He can't do anything like this. Bandages. He needed bandages, then he was good... hopefully. Before he could stand, something hit him on the back of the head; which caused him to see nothing but darkness.

 _'D-Damn...it...'_

 _'Not like this...'_

 _'Italy...'_

 _'...Please...be okay...'_

(...)

Running. Running was all he could do; he couldn't think of anything else. America had told him to run, and meet someone outside, so that was what he was going to do. But, what if this person was deceitful? He didn't know how long, or even how, America met this person, so there was a lot of room for a possible betrayal. However, he thought it would be better for him to keep an open mind, considering the situation he was in; he should be cautious, and open to anyone wanting to help, if that was possible.

Due to the rapid pace he was moving in, it didn't take Italy long to reach the exit and step outside in the thunder and rain. Shivering slightly from the cold, he looked ahead to see a blurry silhouette similar to his own, complete with a hat, and even a curl. Wiping away tears that he didn't even know were coming from his eyes, he still couldn't make out who the silhouette belonged to. He was thinking that it could be Romano, but it couldn't be; Romano's curl was on the right side of his head, and in addition to that his curl was almost at the top of his head; the silhouette's curl was identical to Italy's own, which gave the nation goosebumps.

 _'America has a lookalike, and that lookalike said that there were more of them,'_ the Italian recapped in his head. _'So, could this one be mine?'_

He was surprised by how calm his thought process was, however, that was until the silhouette turned around and their eyes met. Magenta, the person's eyes were magenta; further crushing the hope that it could have been Romano, although it was obvious to him anyway. He wanted to run back inside when the person started to approach him cautiously; the further he got, the more clearer the unknown man's facial features could be seen, and what his face looked like, gave the Italian a heart attack.

The person _was_ him. This person _was_ Italy; just a slightly more tanned version. His 2P?

"Oh, so it is you," the man sighed, as he placed a hand on his hip. "And you appear to be in one piece, so that is a relief, but where is the self-proclaimed hero? He was supposed to come out with you."

"He's...inside," Italy replied, his voice shaking. He was also confused; America met this guy?

"Shit," the man growled, looking down at the ground in frustration. "So much for this being simple."

"...Who are you?"

"Luciano Vargas, leader of the Axis Powers, and your 2P, a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Luciano said passively, releasing his knife from its holster. "I was able to aquire a helicopter to aid with our escape, unfortunately, we now have to rescue the American Idiot, so that has to be delayed."

"Are you going to save him?"

"Of course I am, I - "

 _'So, I was wondering if you could help me find him? 'Cos ya know, a hero can't rescue the damsel in distress without a sidekick; and you've heard the saying, 'the more, the merrier,' right? Well, back to the last statement, I wouldn't call him a damsel, as he ain't female, but -'_

 _'Alright! Quit with your rambling, you are getting on my last nerve!'_

 _'You mean -'_

 _'Yes, I will give you a hand, but **only** to save my idiot of a 1P. Then, you are on your own.'_

 _'Thanks, dude. I'm so grateful for -'_

"Luciano...? Is that your name?"

That question shook the 2P out of his thoughts. He just remembered; he only agreed to rescue Feliciano, not to help Alfred himself. So he could just take his 1P and leave, if he wanted, and leave the blonde to die in the dust; but for some reason, that thought was painful. How? He hadn't known him for very long... why did he want to help him? He didn't have time to ponder about this.

"Yeah, that is my name," he sighed. "You are surprisingly calm for someone who is seeing their 2P for the first time."

"Well, I've seen America's," Italy looked down at the ground. "So I knew I'd see mine, you, eventually."

"Hmm, that makes sense. Let's rescue the idiot."

"Si," Italy nodded, a small, determined smile on his face. "I'll try to be useful, and - "

Before he had even finished his sentence, Luciano was already making his way to the building.

"Hey! Wait for me!"

(...)

"So, you didn't get the key?" Allen asked, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. "What a pain in the ass."

"Allen!"

"Sorry, Ollie," he responded with a chuckle.

"What are we going to do now?" François asked, sounding a little bored. "No key, means no entry."

"Yeah, you're right there," Allen said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can't we use your magic, Ollie?"

"We can," Oliver replied, looking down at his hands. "Unfortunately, we may draw too much attention to ourselves if we were to do that."

"It's worth a shot, right, Ollie?"

"Well -"

 _ **"May I have your attention 2Ps,"**_ a soft, female voice interrupted over the speaker. **_"Master would like to see Mr. Allen Jones, the 2P of America. Allen, please make your way to the top floor. Failure to do so, will result in severe consequences."_**

After the speaker cut off, Oliver and François looked panicked at the American, who also showed equal concern for his own well-being. With a sigh, he turned to the two with a slight grin.

"Wish me luck, guys," he said, before walking away.

 _'If I don't come back, you'll know where to find me.'_

 **XXXXXXX**

 **Well, this chapter was something! It was supposed to be much longer, but I thought it'd be better to just cut it, since it would make more sense. I sincerely hope that you got some enjoyment out of this, and I hope that the story is getting better, not worse. Also, sorry for the many font changes in this chapter. Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	11. The Disappearance of a Hero

**(A/N) Well, hello after 7 months of inactivity, how are you doing?**

 **Okay, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting for this for soo long, and I sincerely appreciate your patience, and those who have added this story to their favourites and alerts. Also, I appreciate those who enjoy this story in general, thank you.**

 **Anyway, my reason was loss of interest in this story unfortunately, but it's back now, and with quite a long chapter. I don't feel like it's the best, but I enjoyed writing it and I reckon it came out fine. I hope you enjoy reading this.**

 **No flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

 **XXXXXXX**

Chapter 11: The Disappearance of a Hero

Fury, with a pinch of confusion, regret, horror and anxiety, mixed into the pit of Allen's stomach. He didn't know why that wretched witch wanted to see him, but in the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't going to be for a good reason. Plotting a rebellion against her, and planning to save the 1Ps behind her back; those were serious crimes, ones that he could get exiled, or worse, executed for. The more Allen thought about it, the two punishments didn't sound too bad; if he was exiled, he wouldn't have to put up with the corrupt leader's bullshit, and he'd finally get to see Luciano again, catch up with him, and maybe tell him how he felt; that he missed him, and...cared about him? No, he was being stupid; he didn't care about Luciano, and Luciano didn't care about him. The short-tempered Italian cared about nobody, but himself...though, if that were the case, then why did he put himself at risk to make things fair for the 2Ps? Where was he actually staying? Was he living on the streets; shivering by himself in the cold rain, with nobody to keep him warm?

 _'Get a grip! Why are you thinking about this now?!'_

Shaking those thoughts away, he thought of the second worst case scenario; being executed. If he was executed, again, that would mean not seeing Her again, but then he would be leaving his friends and family to fend for themselves, and not only that, but what was there after death? He didn't know, and he hoped he would never have to find out. But maybe he was over thinking things, there could actually be a chance that she wouldn't have known of his, and the other's, traitorous acts; considering that they haven't even acted on them yet. But from what Oliver had told him and the rest of their team, Loki seemed to be on her side now; creating a higher chance of the fire crazed, Norwegian psychopath reporting them in, since Oliver requested the key to the prison building.

The young American hadn't realised how far his thoughts had taken him away from the present, until his shoulder smacked into someone's side.

"Ah!" the person gasped as they fell to the ground with a light thump. The American, out of instinct, turned to give the fallen person a hand.

"Hey, I'm sorry, are you...?" he trailed off as soon as he saw who it was; a shaky, teary eyed Flavio with a bruised eye, and a scratch on his left cheek. "Flavio...?" Kneeling down to the Italian's level, he placed a hand on his shoulder. "What happened?" he asked softly.

"Allen," the blonde mumbled, looking down at the ground. "Luciano...is here."

"What?"

The American didn't know whether to be elated, sad, shocked, angry, or all of those emotions at once. But then a thought occurred to him:

"How do you know? If you're just shitting with me, I swear -"

"Why would I joke about that?! He's my fratellino, my little brother, Allen!" Flavio cried, pushing the crimson haired male away, before taking a deep breath. "And how do I know? I was told by Her, that self-righteous cow. Apparently, a few of our soldiers had told Her that he attacked them with Alfred's aid."

"So, he...No, he can't be..."

"Yes, he is..." more tears started to fill his eyes. "I'm soo happy, I really am, but..."

"But, what?"

That pause wasn't good.

"You should hear from her...she's waiting..."

"Oh, yeah," helping Flavio up, he asked. "You didn't tell me what happened."

"What does it look like, Allie?"

"Was it her?! Did she do this to you?"

"Allen...?" the Italian whispered shakily, getting as close to Allen's ear as possible. "After you've had your talk with her, I want you to find Luciano, and get out of here, promise me."

"Huh? Flavi, where's this coming from?"

"Leave the 1Ps to me and the others, just get my fratellino and yourself out of here, please..."

"Okay...?"

"Anyway," Flavio started, pulling away and rubbing the tears out his eyes. "I'm going to ask Oliver to put some ice on my eye. Good luck."

He left, brushing him off, not even bothering to confirm his suspicions, leaving Allen alone, and confused. Why did he want Allen to find Luciano and leave so badly? What's going on?

Advancing further, he could see the office door; pristine white with a golden door knob. He remembered her old office in the prison building, down in the lower levels where he found Alfred and Feliciano. It was a nice office, clean and tidy, but She found it too cold. He remembered everyone moving everything out it, which infuriated Luciano, that much that he just stood with his arms folded and a scowl on his face the entire time. He even told Allen not to assist anyone, _'idiotic enough to aid her in something that she can easily do herself;'_ his reason being, _'she wants a new office, she can move her own god damn stuff, why should we have to do it?!'_

He still helped, regardless of what Luciano had said to him, since he, Viktor and Lutz were the strongest of the 2Ps; and they would need the extra pair of hands to get the job done faster. Luciano still refused to help, whilst looking at Allen as if he had betrayed him or something, which he did understand. The Italian despised their 'Leader,' and would do anything to oppose her, show her up, insult her, and get into a screaming contest with her; especially, if she ordered the group of 2Ps to do something unreasonable.

He still remembered the time that he went to ' _give her a piece of his mind',_ and never returned. He never knew what had happened, except the fact that he was gone. Now, he's back, and possibly in the same boat as him, since he seemed to be working with Alfred, based on what Flavio was told. So, that meant Alfred was safe, meaning he had one less thing to worry about. Right?

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door and waited patiently for the door to open. When it did, he was met with the young, stern face of Elise Zwingli, the younger sister of Voss Zwingli. Her platinum blonde hair was in its usual bob, and her bright blue eyes looked much more dull than they did usually. Closing them with a sigh, she stepped to side and gestured for Allen to enter.

"You took your time, Mr. Allen Jones," she said in a soft, monotone voice as she closed the door behind him. "Our Master has been patiently awaiting your arrival."

"Yes, I have," The American heard the voice of the current Leader of the 2Ps, who wore one of the most fake smiles he'd seen in a while. The enthusiasm in her voice, sounded just as fake. "It's good to see you after soo long, Allen. How have you been?"

"As if you care how I'm doing," Allen snapped without thinking, before folding his arms and sighing. "Cut to chase, what did you really want to talk to me about?"

"Hasty as always, I see," The Leader chuckled, as she sat back in her chair. "Elise, could you please give Allen and I a moment?"

"Of course, Miss Héderváry," the girl nodded, as she left the room before another word could get out, closing the door gently behind her.

Silence filled the room, the ticking of the clock on the Leader's desk being the only sound in the room. This was before, said Leader, broke the silence.

"Well, I have some very interesting news to share with you, would you like to hear it?"

 _'Okay, here we go...'_

The crimson haired male sighed in annoyance, before asking, "Do I have a choice?"

"No, but it doesn't hurt to give the illusion of choice, does it?"

He and everyone else understood why Luciano didn't like Miss Héderváry. She asked pointless questions, just so she can keep you on edge, and she always tried to make you feel small by beating you and yelling at you. Her tricks had never worked on Luciano, in fact, the Italian was a better fighter than her, and he was a master of the art of throwing knives and daggers, which Allen believed were the same thing. That's why she hated him in return; he always showed her up, so she got rid of him, at least that's what Allen had theorised since he went missing. But, Flavio told him that he was back, so is that what she was going to tell him?

"So, some intruders have been spotted going in and out of the prison building, and I think you'd be delighted to know that one of them is your beloved, Luciano Vargas, who's whereabouts at this current moment are unknown," her face scrunched up, like she had just eaten a sour lemon as she sat forward on her chair. Allen's heart sank, _'whereabouts unknown'?_ She continued. "The other was your 1P, who's location is also unknown, but we know he released Feliciano from captivity, and that Italian's location also isn't known."

"Ha, I guess your plans are now on hold?" Allen looked smug, sure he was worried about the whereabouts of the people mentioned, but at least she didn't know where they were.

"However," she growled, giving Allen a warning glare before continuing. "We found someone else of interest."

Now she was looking smug.

"Who?"

"Arthur Kirkland, Oliver's 1P," she said, almost proudly; taking great pleasure in Allen's reaction.

He was slack-jawed, wide-eyed and stiff. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Oliver's 1P had now been dragged into this!

"Why?" He managed to say, barely above a whisper.

"We didn't plan on involving him, of course," she said, leaning back in her chair again. "But, we actually found him snooping around this very building, and that's where he is now. I don't know how he got here, but he's where Feliciano and Alfred were held, guarded by Gilen."

She looked at the American, waiting for a response, which didn't come.

"Okay, Allen, so the reason why you're actually here is simple; I want you to find Luciano, Feliciano and Alfred, and hand them over to me."

"And what if I don't?" He barked, finding his voice again.

"You're fate won't be very pleasant," she turned away from him, and gestured for him to leave. "Now go, we don't have time to waste."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"I believe she ordered you to leave, Mr. Allen Jones," he turned and saw Elise holding the door, pointing to the exit.

 _'How long has she been there?'_ Allen thought, as he left with a scowl.

Shutting the door, Elise turned to Miss Héderváry in confusion.

"I heard you told him about Mr. Arthur Kirkland, but why?"

"I think it'll make things interesting, wouldn't you say, Elise?"

"Whatever you say, ma'am."

(...)

"What? He isn't here, where is he?!"

"I don't know, but please don't yell, they might hear us," Italy whispered shakily, as he and his 2P stood in a corridor; the corridor where he last saw America. "I don't think he's safe, at all. I'm worried..."

"Yeah, for all we know know he could be in serious danger," Luciano turned to look at his counterpart, who just shook his head before turning away from him.

"You don't know that, he could be okay," he started to shake a little. "He's one of the strongest nations I know, he can carry a car with one hand and rarely gets sick...so..."

Looking at the fresh puddle of blood on the ground, Luciano could tell that the moron he had formed an alliance with was not safe, provided that the blood was his, but there was no proof. But regardless, whether or not he was a strong, stable nation had no relevance in this world, they were just humans who didn't age. He didn't want to tell his 1P yet; not only did he feel like his 1P had been through enough already, but he needed the boy to keep his optimism. If he was to find out that he could die here, it could break him; he didn't want to risk it.

"Well," Luciano sighed, pushing his grim thoughts to the back of his mind. "We need to find him quickly, or we won't be seeing him again."

"Oh no!"

"Oh no, indeed," his magenta eyes started to scan the area, until they fell on a familiar knife with his initials carved in. He felt breathless and shaky all of a sudden, as he ran towards it, and picked it up carefully. Blood pumped in his ears and something started to tickle his cheeks, as he clutched the knife for dear life. If the blood didn't let him know of America's fate, since he just brushed it off as being someone else's, as there wasn't proof that it was his, the abandoned knife spelt it out for him, clearly. It was America's blood, and he was in danger.

 _'Shit...!'_

"Hey, Luciano, there's a gun," he heard Italy point out, as he turned to see him kneeling down beside it. "It kind of looks like the one I saw America carrying, before..."

He trailed off, as he looked on in the distance in thought.

Luciano sighed. They didn't have time to sit there thinking about the American's fate, they had to move if they wanted to save him. Standing up, he sheathed the old knife as he approached his other self.

"Feliciano?"

Being addressed by his human name visibly shocked Italy, as his eyes widened and his body tensed slightly. Slowly, he relaxed before replying with, "Yes?"

"Do you know how to use it?" Luciano asked, gesturing to the gun lying next to his 1P.

Closing his eyes tightly, he looked away and folded his arms.

"Yes, I had to use one a few times," he replied after taking a deep breath. "I think the last time I used one was during the second World War. My memories are a little fuzzy, so I might be wrong, but I used one before..."

"Good, so pick it up, now," the darker haired Italian ordered, as he unsheathed his own knife, and turned away. "If we're going to find Jones, you're going to need something to defend yourself with, just in case."

Italy was repulsed. He promised himself that he'd never hold a gun again; instead of war, he'd make pasta, and instead of yelling, there would be laughter, but a nation's life was on the line, a nation who just so happened to be a friend, now. It won't hurt to break his promise one time, will it?

"Come on," Luciano called. "We've got an American to save. They couldn't have taken him that far, and there's a trail of blood, so I think I might have an idea where they've taken him."

"Okay, coming!"

Reluctantly picking up the gun, he followed his copy to save a friend in need.

(...)

"Miss Héderváry, this is Thurston," the Finnish man spoke into a radio, as his soldiers placed the bleeding, unconscious American in the back of a van. "I've successfully captured Alfred F. Jones, and I'm preparing to take him to your desired location...The old building with the conversion equipment, right? Good thing I got a van...Okay, I'm on my way."

(...)

In another area of the structure, an albino male was guarding a cell door, twiddling his thumbs. He wore a melancholic expression on his face, and appeared to not have slept in a long time. It was silent, agonisingly silent, and that filled the man with more dread than he was used to, and he hated every second of it. He didn't see the point in capturing the 1Ps of Luciano and Allen, and he didn't see the point of now keeping Oliver's 1P contained here; sure, he was trespassing and was a threat due to his magic, but could they have just sent him away?

 _ **'Of course we can't send him away! He knows where we are located, he can use magic, and he could potentially take Alfred and Feliciano back home. We can't allow that!'**_

 _ **'And why not?! This is all just pointless, Erzsébet! What do you even hope to gain from this?!'**_

 _ **'That is none of your business, Gilen! All you need to know is that Luciano and Allen are going to be disposed of; and after the ceremony that's currently being planned, Alfred and Feliciano are going to be reborn so to speak.'**_

 _ **'You don't mean...?'**_

 _ **'Yes, they'll be the new and improved Allen and Luciano.'**_

Being hit with sudden light-headedness, he shut his eyes and clenched his teeth; clutching his head, as he slumped against the wall. That conversation he had with Her was still fresh in his mind.

 _ **'I understand why you want Luciano gone, but why Allen? He listens to orders.'**_

 _ **'Well, although he follows orders, it isn't an unknown fact that him and Luciano have feelings for each other. In other words, if he found out that I had his lover killed; he would no longer follow orders, like what he did for a time after the guy was exiled. So, it's best we start with those two from scratch now.'**_

 _ **'But what would happen to the 1P's world without their personification of Italy and America? And what are you going to do with Arthur?'**_

 _ **'Country personifications get reborn when they die, so when Alfred and Feliciano become the new 2Ps of Italy and America, new 1Ps will be born, too. Arthur, I haven't thought about, I could get rid of Oliver...'**_

Resting his head on his knees, he silently wept; praying for it all to be over. How could she think of disposing of them soo easily, the way he saw it, they were family. He didn't want this; he didn't want Luciano dead, Oliver dead, and Allen -

"Gilen!"

His head shot up upon hearing his name. Did he do something wrong?

In front of him, he could see Allen approaching, clearly enraged. Quickly getting up to a shaky stand, the Prussian saluted him, with his head held high and expression blank. However, the American's greeting wasn't pleasant, nor respectful; he gave the poor Prussian a punch in the face. Everything went black for a split second, before he opened his eyes.

"Hey there, Gilen," Allen growled. "We need to talk."

 **XXXXXXX**

 **That was it!**

 **I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and I hope to be faster with updates in the future! Also, sorry for the font changes, too.**

 **Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	12. Reality Vs Expectations

**(A/N) Haha! Only a five month wait this time around. Again, as usual, I apologise for the wait and I appreciate and thank you for your patience. First chapter of 2019, woo!**

 **The chapter's name is strange, but I couldn't think of a suitable name, so it's name was kind of a reference to a paragraph near the end; you may know when you see it. Speaking further of the chapter, it was a pain in the ass to write; I was going through something where I knew what I wanted to happen, but I didn't know how I wanted to word it, add stress of college and thinking about my future to the mix, with a sprinkle of trying to address some plot holes I feel I've corrected while maybe adding some more and bam! Writer's block is created, yay!**

 **Anyway, I don't want to prevent you from reading the chapter from any longer than I probably have been doing, so let's move on!**

 **No flames please~! If you feel that some improvements could be made, don't be afraid to say so; tell what I did good and like I just said, improvements are good!**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

 **New year, new disclaimer wouldn't you say! Happy Late New Year!**

* * *

Chapter 12: Reality vs. Expectations

"So, what are we going to do?" Italy asked, as he and Luciano pushed open the door to the exit forcefully.

Rain cascaded down on the duo, as they stopped to catch their breaths. The rain didn't bother them too much, since they were already soaked from the previous time they had been outside, but the current circumstances and how to tackle these circumstances did. It didn't help that it was much darker outside than it was before, and it's not like the searchlights were helping; they were flickering, seemingly close to dying out completely.

Italy looked down at the gun in his hand, as he thought about the guy who once owned it; America, the "self-proclaimed hero," as Luciano put it. He was missing, in danger, and the auburn haired male couldn't help but feel like it was his fault; if he was persistent enough in persuading America not to enter that suspicious room, then they wouldn't have fallen into a trap that resulted in Italy, himself, being captured, which then wouldn't have caused America to save him and risk his own freedom, and thus, put himself in the terrible situation he was in.

 _ **'I promise I'll catch up with you; be strong for me, and go.'**_

Maybe if he had stayed instead of running like a coward, America would have had a better chance...? No... If anything, Italy would have slowed him down, like he had been this whole time... Hell, he was probably slowing Luciano down right now!

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Luciano's voice took Italy out of his thoughts, as he turned to look at the other him, who wore a frown on his face. "I understand why you're crying, but now isn't the time."

Italy turned away, as he rubbed the tears from his eyes; he hoped Luciano wouldn't notice, he thought his tears could be mistaken for rain drops, but clearly his counterpart was observant enough to not be fooled.

"Okay, and to answer your question," Luciano continued, removing his hat and running a hand through his hair with a sigh. "We evidently weren't fast enough in getting to Jones, but fortunately for us, I have an idea where they have taken him."

"Huh? Where?" Italy asked impatiently, turning to Luciano again.

"An old building with the necessary materials for what they want to accomplish..."

"Necessary materials? For what?"

Italy could have sworn that he heard Luciano mutter ' _shit_ ' under his breath, his face wearing an expression that told Italy that his counterpart mentioned something he shouldn't have. Growling, the 2P placed his hat on his head again, scowling when his eyes met his 1P's.

"Do you want to save your friend, or do you want to stand here talking?"

"I want to help my friend, of course," Italy replied, kicking a small pebble on the ground. "It's good that we have an idea where he is, but how are we going to get there?"

"I managed to find my old car after Jones and I split; my plan was to have the three of us escape with it after he rescued you," Luciano gestured for Italy to follow him, as he started to walk forward. "However, he got himself caught playing hero, like the wise-ass he is, so now we're behind on our plans."

"Umm...where is it?" The 1P asked, looking around the area they were approaching, and with the lighting conditions, he could only see pitch black; that kind of answered his question. "I don't see a car here..."

"Well, only an idiot will leave a potential escape vehicle out in the open," Luciano said this in a hushed tone, checking to see if anyone was following them before he continued. "It's not far from here anyway, just follow me and keep your eyes peeled; we don't want to risk being found."

"Okay."

* * *

 _ **'Why?'**_

That was the only word, only question, that played through Flavio's head continously like a chorus. He didn't think there would be anything to gain from this, only things to lose, and frankly, that was what he said to her when she brought up the idea of sacrificing his brother and one of his closest friends. However, she didn't like that, so she ordered little Elise to beat him while she watched, amused by the scene in front of her; then, he was promptly told to leave the office after the beating was finished. That was when he ran into Allen, who noticed his bruises instantly and showed concern; which only made him feel more guilty over what their 'leader' had planned.

After brushing him off and telling him to leave with his brother, he ran to see Oliver; not only because he could treat his injury, but because he might have an idea of what to do about this situation. From what he was told, Alfred and Feliciano were going to become the 'new and improved' Allen and Luciano, through a ceremony, a ceremony that he didn't know about whatsoever; all that he did know was that Alfred and Feliciano were going to become their 2Ps, but what would happen to his brother and Allen, would they die? And that was another reason why he was going to see Oliver; he was a magic user, and thus he would have an idea of how the ceremony works, what's needed and what exactly happens upon its conclusion.

He needed to get his mind off it, at least while he waited for Oliver to come back with the ice pack he had promised to get him from the medical room. Looking at the cracked grey walls and the matching stone floor with random yellow stains immediately got his mind off of things for a bit; could it have hurt for the man to add some framed pictures, posters, heck even wallpaper and carpet to hide the stains on the floor? At least a pink floral table cloth added some colour to the room, that was a start at least...

"Oh, Flavi," Oliver's voice had immediately shaken the Italian out of his thoughts. The pastel pink haired male grimaced slightly, as he handed the blonde an ice pack. "How on earth did you get that nasty bruise?"

"I don't want to be rude, but that's not what's important right now..." He trailed off, placing the pack on his eye, ignoring the puzzled look the Brit was giving him. He had to get this done quickly, he needed answers not pity. "Are you aware that Luciano is here?"

Oliver looked shocked at this. So, he didn't know?

"I was not aware of that, at all..." He replied, and from the look on his face, he didn't know how to feel about it; happy, sad, angry, or hurt. He then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing before looking at Flavio again with a sympathetic look. "My intention is not to upset you by saying this, Flavi, but I do not believe it to be a joyous occasion that he has returned..."

"I agree," saying that earned him another look of surprise from Oliver; okay, time to cut to the chase. "I'm not sure if you know already, but Allen and Luciano are in trouble."

"Of course," the Brit replied, his expression looking slightly pained. "Luciano has, unfortunately, been exiled, and Allen is currently in Her office; which could only mean he has displeased the witch in some way..."

"No, Allen hasn't done anything wrong," Flavio choked, looking down at the ground, covering his mouth with his free hand. "You should know that, since you've been planning to save the..."

Oliver's eyes widened; he didn't need Flavio to finish his sentence to know what he was talking about.

"Does she know what we have planned?" He asked, in a hushed tone; it didn't hurt to be safe.

"To tell you the truth, I don't know if she does," the blonde composed himself and looked up at Oliver again, emitting a shaky breath before continuing. "The reason she called him to the office was to order him to hunt down his own 1P, Luciano's 1P, and Luciano himself; she said it's an order everyone will receive eventually...I've already received that order..."

"And I will assume that she wants them sent to her as soon as they are caught?"

Flavio nodded in response.

"I wonder why?" Oliver pondered to himself, resting his chin on his hand. "Allen and I have been wondering since he discovered Alfred and Feliciano; and we haven't come to a logical reason..."

"Something about a ceremony," Flavio said abruptly; startling Oliver out of his pondering. He waited for the Brit to calm himself down before adding to his statement. "She didn't say much, she just said that she wanted them for a ceremony that should turn Allen and Luciano into 'good boys'..."

Oliver paled.

"If what you just said is to be believed, that combined with the 1Ps being here..." Oliver's voice was panicked as he was coming to the conclusion. "She wants to convert the 1Ps into fresh 2Ps; starting with Allen and Luciano..."

"How would that work?" Flavio asked nervously.

"Well," Oliver stood up and started to browse through his bookshelf. After picking up a purple book, he sat back at the table. "What is needed to carry out this ceremony is obvious: a 2P and the 2P's 1P, a white candle, a red candle, a spell, and a magic user to carry out the spell. To carry out the spell, the 2P would have to be purged, drained of their blood, then the blood would have to be placed in a cup of some sort; the 1P would then have to drink the blood then die themselves; after that the spell user recites the spell of 'purity to corruption' then the 1P is the new 2P."

"What happens after?"

Oliver flipped to another page of his book.

"The 2P is dead obviously, and the 1P becomes the new 2P; but their minds will be completely wiped, and they will become cold blooded killers, but that period will not last long and we are proof of that..."

"Yeah...but what happens in the 1P world?"

"A new nation is born..."

"What does she have to gain from this?!" Flavio growled, clenching his fists. "Heartless wench!"

"She is doing this for her own satisfaction, clearly," Oliver closed the book, approached Flavio, then wrapped his arms around him. "She has a twisted sense of humour and thus, finds this funny; but do not fret, Flavi, we will not allow her to get what she wants...

We will save them...

...and dispose of her if we want to prevent an incident like this happening again..."

* * *

Allen looked down at the teary eyed Prussian, and for the first time in years, he didn't regret what he had just done; he felt no pity for this sorry excuse of a 2P nation, or ex-2P nation, if he was going to be correct. Not only was he aiding that bitch Héderváry with her scheme, thus getting in the way of his goal of saving the 1Ps, but he was overall her little pet; he'd do anything she asked of him, even if it meant hurting others, no matter the age or how close he was to the nation. Disgusting in his opinion. Risking others to save his own skin.

Speaking of the devil, he didn't bother to stand; he just chose to look down after glancing at the crimson haired man and rubbed his bruised cheek. Emitting a shaky sigh, he finally decided to speak.

"What is it you want to talk about, Allen?"

"I think you have an idea," Allen folded his arms, and focused all his attention on not exploding in rage, before he continued. "Let's just cut to the chase, I know who you're guarding behind that door and I simply want you to release him."

Gilen's eyes widened before he rapidly shook his head.

"What?! No, I can't -!"

"Gilen, I'm not in the mood for this!" Allen roared, as he punched the wall next to him, making Gilen whimper. "Release him, or you'll make me do something I'll regret!"

"Please! I can't! If I fail, I'll -"

"I don't have time for this!" He kicked Gilen in the face, knocking him out cold. Before he could start feeling regret, he searched the Prussian for the key, which he found easily enough. Why Erzsébet was stupid enough to leave the key on the guard, he'll never know, but he didn't have time to dwell on that.

Placing the key in the lock, he imagined what the 1P of his guardian would be like; he heard some things, like he couldn't cook to save his life and he didn't wear bright colours, but that was it. He thought maybe he'd be more strict than even Oliver; maybe he'd hate not only swear words, but food swears too, maybe he'd have an even bigger stick up his ass...

He mentally slapped himself, he was on a time limit, dammit!

Turning the key, he opened the door to be greeted with a punch to the face; Matt had told him once that Karma's a bitch...he never wanted to admit it, but he was right. Rubbing his cheek, he looked at the culprit; a man with emerald green eyes, messy blonde hair, and a face and overall build just like his old caretaker.

It was weird seeing a look of pure rage on Oliver's face; he's seen him angry, but not this angry.

Oliver's 1P, who he knew was called Arthur, folded his arms with a smirk, before releasing a small chuckle.

"Well, I've always wanted to punch America in the face, but I never thought I'd get the opportunity," he finally said, more to himself than anything, before anger appeared on his features again. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to save you," Allen unintentionally growled.

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow.

" _Save_ me? That's rich."

"I'm not joking, Arthur..."

"Alright then, if you're not taking the piss, then get out of my way," the Brit proceeded to storm past the shocked Allen, and stopped when he spotted Gilen on the ground unconscious.

"Stay close, I don't want to risk you getting captured again," Allen said, trying to get over hearing a swear in Oliver's voice. He swore!

"What? Do you take me as a damsel in distress?"

"No, I just think we can help each other out of this situation and -"

"What are you planning?" Arthur growled, fingers crackling with, what Allen assumed was, magic.

"To save the 1Ps and get them home," Allen shrugged.

"Oh, thanks for reminding me," the blonde raised his hand and looked to be focusing very hard on something. His hand crackled, glowed then dimmed right after; looking at his hand he scowled. "The drug must still be in my system," he looked at Allen again, then the way out of the corridor behind himself; he turned to leave, but was stopped by Allen.

"Arthur, please, trust me -"

"Why should I?!"

"Because I want out of here just as much as you do! I want to save the 1Ps just as much as you do!"

"And what's in it for you? Why abduct them, then me, when you're just going to bloody release them afterwards?!" Arthur seethed. "That's a load of bollocks and you know it!"

"I had no part in the abduction...not many of us even knew about it."

The 1P's expression was unreadable, as he looked hard at the American.

"You sound sincere..."

"That's because I am," Allen said. "I'll explain my side of things if you want..."

Arthur looked to be in thought. "It's not a trick, is it?"

"Oh come on, you just said I sounded sincere!"

"You could be one hell of an actor for all I know!"

"Please!"

"Alright," the Brit folded his arms. "But don't betray my trust, you understand?"

"I won't."

* * *

 **And that is Chapter 12 done! Unfortunately, I have no idea when I'll get chapter 13 out, but know that it will be coming at some point in the future, so don't worry.**

 **I hope this chapter was good and worth the wait; with some parts, I think you can tell where I struggled and I'm pretty sure I'm making more and more plot holes as I go, whilst making the story a convoluted mess...I dunno...**

 **Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R &R and thanks for reading!**

 **P.S. If you notice plot holes...let me know...kindly...thank you...**


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